Unwanted
by LavenderGoddessV
Summary: BV-AU. Vegeta-sei is war torn. To ensure peace, Vegeta must ally himself with Bulma, a woman who has vowed her eternal hatred for him. Will passion erupt between these two bitter souls or will a sin from Vegeta’s past cause his love to be unwanted?
1. The Final Battle

Quick Note: Here we are again, another new fic. This one I believe will very much appeal to those who enjoyed _Ward_. It is set in a medieval type period; so again, no ki, no Super Saiya-jins, and no flying. The Saiya-jins are still, however, a warrior race, only they fight with swords and on horseback. Also there will be differences in parentage, and siblings. For example, there is no separation of species in this case. Everyone is of the same race (Saiya-jin), BUT the planet is divided into territories, which were once united under Vegeta, as its sole king. You will learn more as you get into the story, but I just wanted to give a few disclaimers. And remember, this is definitely a B/V fanfic, so do not let the opening scare you. Ok, so now on to my newest creation, _Unwanted_. I hope you enjoy… 

Unwanted 

**__**

Chapter 1 – The Final Battle

"Must you go?" she questioned softly while burying her head in the crook of her fiancé's neck. As much as she desired an end to this ten year long bloodbath, she knew how dangerous this final conflict would inevitably be. Not more than one in two men who set foot on the battlefield was expected to survive; a statistic she could not bear his being a part of. "One more man will not make such a serious difference, even if it is you."   
  


With a heavy sigh, Kakarrot reluctantly pulled back from the woman he had vowed to marry so that she could see the honest regret within his eyes for making the decision that his honor demanded. "Please do not make this any more difficult than it already is, Bulma. You know I would do anything you asked of me, but it cannot be this. In an ordinary skirmish, perhaps I would forfeit my presence, but this is the final stand against Nappa's last wave of forces. It's the end, Bulma, an end that I have been fighting for since I was eleven years old; I have to see it through." 

"Pride," Bulma hissed as she turned away from the determined man, "You are beginning to sound just like your brother." She knew better than to hit him bellow the belt with such an unfair assertion, but her head and heart were simply not matching up on this matter. This was possibly the last time she would ever see him alive, how rational could she be expected to act when his life was hanging in the balance? 

"I am _not_ Vegeta," Kakarrot refuted her claim adamantly as he walked in front the brokenhearted woman to gently grasp her arms. He had to calm her worries. "Bulma, I swear to you that I will not take any careless chances with my life. I have too much to live for." He slid his fingers up her silky arms before stopping at her neck. Erasing with his thumbs the few stray tears that had fallen from her bottomless blue eyes, he leaned in to place a slow kiss upon her forehead. "Nothing can keep me from coming back to you," he vowed while pulling her back into his embrace. Nestling his head against hers, he slowly stroked his fingers through her long tresses, "Especially not some damn war that is long overdue for its conclusion."

The promise seemed just enough incentive to lift Bulma's spirits. She knew the experienced fighter he was, he had survived ten years of war with no more than a few scars to show for it. She had faith that if his determination was half as strong as he insinuated, before the close of the season they would be husband and wife. 

"Highness," the impromptu interruption by one of the castle guards effectively served to break the serenity between the pair, "Please pardon my interruption, but if you wish to see the battle's commencement, we need to leave immediately." 

"I'll be right out," the avowal was enough to give the pair a few more moments of peace before having to separate indefinitely. Turning back to offer his final goodbye, Kakarrot was abruptly stopped as he watched his fiancé detach a necklace that had been hidden under her dress. It was a plain looking jewel with a quarter inch thick band that at its focal connected a locket. 

"I had this made for you months ago," she began with a deep breath, trying desperately to dam the tears she expected would inevitably begin to flow. "I was going to give it to you as a wedding present, but I think now might be more appropriate." She reached out to grasp his hand. Placing the trinket in his palm, she slowly dragged her fingers away so that he could uncover what was inside. A smile graced his lips as soon as the treasure was unveiled to him. 

"How well you know me," he softly chuckled as he unreeled the long braided lock of Bulma's azure hair. He had never made a secret of how much he adored her exotic locks: the color, the length, the silky consistency, and the scent. Bestowing upon him a sample would ignite all his senses to form a more vivid reminder of what he had to look forward to upon his return. "As long as there is breath in my body, this shall never be severed from me," he vowed gently as he pulled the token around his neck. Once it was neatly situated, he wrapped his arms around his love for one last chance to feel her in his arms. "I will be back," he promised finally as he ran his lips over hers. The desperate kiss that followed was filled with all the suppressed passion invoked by the deadly circumstances that would be faced.  The fear of possible death, of never seeing one another again too potent to simply be expelled in one kiss, but time would not allow them any more. "I have to go."  

The words were painful to hear as the warmth that had just encompassed her was so cruelly whipped away. "Be safe," she ordered after the strong figure departed from her, only stopping to nod his head briskly before closing the door behind him. Once she was left alone, Bulma fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself as she silently prayed for the safe return of her fiancé. They had lived too many years in fear of death to lose their battle for a safe future now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The day has finally come, Nappa." Vegeta took a long breath as he scanned over the supply report he had just been given. He was taking one final check before launching into the battle he had waited years for, the day he would finally avenge his parents and reclaim his birthright, the day he would set right all that had gone wrong ten years ago. 

If the war could have been given a title, it would have been Hestia, the once Saiya-jin queen, and Vegeta and Kakarrot's mother. Since young adulthood, Nappa and King Vegeta had admired her beauty and strength, both pursuing her attention like moths to a flame, a flame that would ultimately set the planet ablaze when she chose royalty over the life of a soldier's wife. 

Nappa had believed the choice was solely an economic one on her part, that if he had more power, more prestige, she would more than willingly come to him. And so in his cold and calculating pursuit of a warped form of justice, he spent sixteen years plotting the manner in which he would get her back, the day he would overthrow the Vegeta Empire. 

The attack came on Prince Vegeta's fifteenth coming of age celebration. Disguised among the guests were hordes of loyalists to Nappa, men who had been promised power and unfathomable wealth once the king had been overthrown. And he was, much too easily, being so caught off guard. 

The room was quickly demolished as the innocents scrambled to the nearest exits. However, not all made it out of the hall with their lives, Hestia being one of them. A stray arrow had struck her in the heart, a detail that was clearly not a part of Nappa's plan. 

The sheer distraction of the event was just barely enough time for the royal family to escape through secret passages. Though retreat was not the Saiya-jin way, King Vegeta and his two sons agreed to live long enough to see victory against the man who had stolen their title, their home, and more unforgivably, their wife and mother. Yes, revenge had been on the forefront of all their minds, but regrouping was necessary before such a course could be laid. So they had chosen to escape to Lord Toma's estate. 

When they arrived, the full extent of Nappa's insurrection was finally made clear. In a matter of weeks, what was once a global monarchy had split into three separate territories. Though Nappa's intention had been to divide the planet evenly, taking the northern sector for himself, and giving the southern sector to his bastard son, Nexus, a mere boy of fourteen, one quadrant had proved to be more difficult than all others. 

The northeastern sector was filled with loyalists to one of the most feared men on the planet, Lord Toma, a dangerous mercenary who alone summed more wealth than the royal family itself. However, he never chose to challenge the king's authority out of a life debt. Vegeta had once spared the man from being run through with a sword; ever since, Toma and the King were the strongest of allies. 

Using Toma's rebellious lands as a stronghold, plans were immediately made for a counterattack. For one year, King Vegeta and Lord Toma led the assault to take back the territory that had been stolen from them. Then tragedy struck, and both men lost their lives in an ambush Nappa had personally led. They were beheaded, and their faces put on display for all who might consider joining what was left of Vegetabatsu rebellion. 

Nappa thought he had achieved his victory that day. The former King was dead and thus in his mind the rebellion had been crushed. But he had never been more wrong. Enraged over his father's murder, the former Prince Vegeta had taken the responsibility of continuing the fight. Between the disgrace of his father and the instability of his troops, he felt trapped with no other choice than to take drastic measures to pursue his victory. 

Vegeta's sense of morals and ethics were completely obliterated once his father died. As if something finally snapped in him, he found himself walking down a path of ruthless violence. For four years he adopted a policy of no mercy. Innocents were killed, villages burned, and men brutalized under his watch. He quickly developed a reputation as a monster, a heartless, soulless warrior who would stop at nothing to see Nappa's blood on his hands.

What had started out as a mission to reclaim his honor had turned into one for blood. His honor had been long lost, just as any hope of returning to the respectable man he had once been. At least that was what Vegeta believed until the night _she_ came to him. The night he learned the full extent of his inhumanity. The night she showed him the monster he had allowed his hate to force him to become. The night he changed at a permanent cost to an innocent woman.  

Closing his eyes, Vegeta tried to force the images of that night away. Of all the horrible actions he had taken throughout the course of this war, that was assuredly the most dishonorable. For the last half of this war he had worked to change his ways, to do as she had begged of him that night, to stop the unnecessary violence. It was the only atonement he could offer. Not that it would ever be enough to right his actions. What he had done to her, taken from her, was unforgivable. 

Opening his eyes to finish reading his report, Vegeta tried to crush the image of her tearstained face from his mind. Today was not the day to dredge up the past. Today, ten long years of fighting finally ends. Today he would claim the final piece of land that had been taken from his family, the Vegetabatsu fortress. 

The former palace of Vegeta's family was now the most heavily guarded plot of land on the planet. Nappa, his father's murderer, the man responsible for the hell he was living in, was its current owner. But that was about to change. Now it was finally time for Nexu's defeat. Vegeta was finally, after so many long years, going to take the life of the man who had killed his father. And no one was going to steal that pleasure from him, especially not his half brained younger brother.   

"You're late," Vegeta's tone was filled with censure as he lifted his eyes from his report to see his younger brother stroll into his tent two hours later than he had ordered. Though he had taken the time to relax in contemplation, propping his legs up on the table in front of him as he leisurely indulged in food and drink before facing the battle ahead, he was not a man to be kept waiting. "I was beginning to think you would not come." He lowered the document to rest on his lap as an almost sinister smirk spread across his lips, "Vacationing can make a man soft. I suppose those harem women kept you busy." The comment was meant in jest, Vegeta was fully aware of his brother's prudish nature when it came to women, but the remark was not taken so lightly. 

Clenching his fists, Kakarrot pulled out a seat across from his brother as he responded with restrained anger, "_Unlike_ you, Vegeta, I happen to believe in waiting until marriage before becoming intimate with a woman, because _unlike _you, I want love and affection, not an easy fuck, _like_ you."

Fresh from reliving his shameful memories, Kakarrot's words had stung. But Vegeta was not about to show any diversion as he released an amused chuckle and mocked, "You know I almost feel sorry for you, Kakarrot. You were too young when this war started to have known the bliss of indulgence in the fairer of the species. I however," he leaned back in his chair and threw his arms out before intertwining his fingers to support the back of his head, "Vividly remember the hordes of women beating down the castle doors, vying to become the next Saiya-jin queen. How foolish they all were. One after another visiting my bed, all thinking I would be tamed by their feminine charms. Of course not a single one of them was called back for a second night. That, my dear brother, is the weaker sex."

"You are wrong," Kakarrot insisted as he thoughtlessly grasped the token around his neck. "My greater fear is that she will bore with me long before I ever would with her. She's smart and generous and passionate and beautiful," he paused as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes half closed in reflection, "so beautiful, Vegeta. I could never find a female easier on the eyes or the soul." 

"_She_?" Vegeta's brow rose in confusion, lost by his brother's train of thought. "I was speaking generally, whom are you referring to? Tell me you have not let some witch entrance you." 

Responding with a bemused look of his own, Kakarrot questioned, "I thought you had heard? I have asked Bulma to marry me once this war is over. She has accepted." 

A long impenetrable silence followed before Vegeta cleared his throat and emotionlessly nodded his consent. "A wise choice; your marriage will secure an indefinite unity between the Tomabatsu and our own. It should help to maintain the peace once this war is over." 

Crossing his arms, Kakarrot scowled at his brother. "I am not marrying her for political reasons; I am marrying her because I love her. I mean, she's beautiful, intelligent, genteel, pure…" Vegeta stopped listening after that, the knot tying in his stomach too distracting to continue paying attention as Kakarrot continued his rambling about the perfections of his fiancé. 

Reaching a point where he could hear no more, Vegeta snapped, "Oh please, if you spew one more word I think I will be sick. Honestly Kakarrot, are you so entranced in her spell that you have forgotten whom you are speaking of? This is the little brat who used to kick a man's shins and drop dirt in his water supply. She caused mischief and ruckus everywhere she went, cursing with the tongue of an aged soldier. There is a term for the type of women those kinds of little girls grow into, and I assure it is none of the ones you are referring to her as." 

"Come now, Vegeta, she was just a child as young as ten during those first few years you speak of. And she was forced to follow her father to the front lines of the war; considering the things she had to witness, I do not think her behavior was terribly inappropriate." 

He was right of course. Toma should have never allowed his daughter to stay with him, he should have sent her back home to her mother, Seripa, the moment he learned she had stowed away among one of the supply carts, taking drastic measures to stay with her father. The battlefield was no place for a young girl, regardless of how fearless she claimed to be. 

But Toma had let her stay. A partially selfish decision, it was well known that even the most powerful of Saiya-jin men could be turned into piles of mush under the soft pleas of their female offspring. Toma never stood a chance. 

Spirited was perhaps a meek word to describe the girl's disposition. She seemed for some time completely detached from the happenings around her. She and Kakarrot had quickly become friends, being the only two in their age bracket. Together they caused much ruckus, both perhaps trying to escape the reality of what was happening around them. But when the battle came to the forefront, Kakarrot took arms, as would any member of the army, and Bulma followed the wishes of her father and remained sheltered from the skirmish, at least until the day he died.  

No child should ever have to watch a parent executed, especially one so young as Bulma, but she did. The day of the ambush, she had been Toma's first priority. He had tucked her away in an underground compartment, hoping that if the worst happened, she would not be discovered. And she was not, fortunately, as Vegeta realized once he arrived on the scene. He was too late to do any good for the men stationed there, including his own father. 

He had heard a faint sound of whimpering the moment he had stepped into the dilapidated tent. As he moved closer to the underground cul-de-sac, he could hear her crying. Lifting the fallen debris that had trapped her inside, he opened the latch and found the sobbing girl with her head buried in her knees. When he tried to pull her out, she had started kicking and screaming at him, her first instinct clearly that he had been the enemy, an instinct he wished she would have followed nearly four years later. 

After drawing blood from biting into the palm of his hand with her fanglike teeth, he had had enough and used pressure points to knock her unconscious. Once she became more compliant he carried her back to his horse and set off for her home, where Toma should have returned her to from the start. When she finally came to, she had refused to speak to anyone about what she had witnessed. It was not until Kakarrot arrived two days later that she opened up, and the military state of their forces was made clear. 

Seripa had taken full control of her daughter's life after that, banning her from the battlefield; she vowed to make her only child live to become a proper young lady. Bulma scarcely disagreed; her father was gone, so there was no reason for her to return to the blood and violence. She had all the time in the world to do nothing but mend, at least until Vegeta returned to administer some fresh wounds over the ones that had just begun to heal. 

"Will you not be happy for me?" Kakarrot's question quickly broke Vegeta from his musings. How long had his brother been babbling on about his love for this woman? 

"Yes, happy, right," Vegeta replied flippantly; if his brother wanted to marry her, all the better. Bulma deserved a man who could treat her properly, respecting her mind, soul—and above all—her body. Vegeta was certain Kakarrot could do all that; he would condone the man's actions. "Enough of this emotional drivel," he snapped while pushing himself off of his seat and walking across the room to grab his armor. "We have a battle to worry about first." He would not allow unexpected developments or lingering nightmares from the past to soil his victory. Today was his day to make all the pain and suffering he had lived through mean something. He would avenge his parents, reclaim his honor, or at least as much as was left of it, and nothing was going to stand in his way. "Ready yourself, brother; we spill Nappa's blood tonight." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"My Lady," Bulma's long-time servant Lena thrust open the door to her mistress's chambers and ran to her side to deliver her pressing message, "His highness is here, he is waiting in your study, he demands to see you at once!" 

The news brought such a sense of relief to Bulma's aching heart that she failed to hear any other advisement from her companion as she ran from her room to heed his call. After three long months of no word, Kakarrot had finally come back to her. The lack of communication had caused her mind to spin the most terrible possibilities, but now it seemed her worries were all for naught. He had finally come back to her as he had promised, and not a moment before she was prepared to go out searching for him herself!

Arriving outside his place of waiting, Bulma took a moment to compose herself. She did not want to seem too thrilled to see him return after not corresponding with her for so long; her cold disposition would certainly teach him a lesson about leaving her to worry! Grasping the door handle, Bulma took a deep breath before stepping into the room. "Well, how nice of you to finally pay me a—" her throat choked mid-sentence as her eyes fell upon a man she had not seen in five years, a man she had never wanted to see again. "What the hell are you doing here, Vegeta? Where is Kakarrot?" she slammed the doors behind herself, her mind not allowing a moment to contemplate what his presence meant. 

"I will take full blame for your being kept in ignorance for so long. I wanted no one to alert you of what had happened before I had the chance to tell you in person." His voice was deep and his demeanor cold, just as she so vividly remembered him the last time they crossed paths. 

"Tell me what?" she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her voice quake as she asked. She would never fall victim under this man, not again. After waiting for what felt like an eternity to hear his answer, when it finally came, her mind failed to register it. "I am sorry, what did you say?"

"I said," she could hear his teeth grind together, clearly annoyed he had to repeat himself; he voiced his announcement slowly and articulately so that the reality of each gut wrenching syllable could sink in, "Kakarrot is dead."

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Translations:  Batsu –Clan

                    Vegetabatsu – Vegeta's Clan 

                    Tomabatsu – Toma's Clan

Author's Note: Ok, so what do you think? Have I piqued your interest? Next chapter picks up right where this one leaves off, answering all lingering questions, so hope to catch you all again for another installment of my newest addiction, _Unwanted_. 


	2. An Undesired Reunion

Unwanted 

**__**

Chapter 2 – An Undesired Reunion 

It had been five years since Vegeta laid eyes on the fair beauty before him. Many days he feared what the circumstances of their first encounter would be, not knowing how she would receive him after the horrid note they had last left each other on. But out of all the possible reasons that would force him to face her once more, this was the most pitiable. He had to return to her as a villain once more, only this time delivering the shattering news that the man she intended to marry had been killed in battle.  

"I do not believe you," she turned her back to him, clearly willing his confession to be a lie. If only it was. 

Reaching into his vest, Vegeta tightly closed his fist around the proof as he walked around her, not allowing the chance for her to ignore the truth. "Before Kakarrot and I split to lead each end of the two pronged assault on what was Nappa's fortress, he showed me a charm you had given him. Was I wrong in identifying this?" He opened his palm and stretched out the object. The dismayed look upon Bulma's face was verification enough that he had recognized it correctly. 

Slowly reaching out to grasp her gift, she shakily reclaimed it. "He swore he would never be separated from it," she pulled the broken locket closer to her eyes, examining it, praying it was some terrible mistake. It was not. The mangled chain with broken locket was without a doubt the beautifully crafted token she had offered Kakarrot before his departure. Only now it was stained with dirt and blood, and the lock of hair she had given him was long gone. "He was so strong as a child, advanced far beyond his years, he could not be beaten…" she choked each word out as a steady stream of tears began to fall from her eyes. The sight of blood, likely Kakarrot's blood, on the jewel was too much to bear. 

In a movement that was purely instinct, Vegeta reached out to catch the woman before she had a chance to collapse, her emotional state suddenly impeding her physical. He followed her sunken form to his knees, keeping one arm wrapped around her torso as he allowed her to bury her head against his chest while she sobbed for her lost fiancé. 

Vegeta remained silent as the woman expelled her grief. What was he supposed to say? His brother had died an honorable death. He had lived to see the end of his enemy after fighting bravely for ten years. She should be proud, but pride was a cold comfort in the face of death. Pride did not keep you warm at night. It did not bring you companionship or softer emotions, like love. It would not ease her suffering, so he did the only thing he could at that moment. He allowed her to cry against him; a move he was certain he would regret, considering he was the last man on the planet she would ever want comfort from.  

"How?" the hollow question was barely whispered. But he heard it, and minimally offered what he knew. 

"Nexus. A lieutenant witnessed the two men clash, including the battle's end when Kakarrot was run through. Knowing my brother, I doubted the validity of the story, but after this was found," he gently touched her hand that held the locket, "My doubt faded. We are still looking for the body, but it will most likely take months before the dead are properly sorted and those who can be, are identified." 

More tears. Surely the vision of her lover's corpse lost among a sea of battered and disembodied warriors was not the most pleasurable of images he could have offered, but she needed to know. He would not sugarcoat this for her; it was not in his nature. "A ceremonial burial is to be held in one week's time. I will escort you to my estate for the rite. After that—" he paused, it would be best to tell her the rest after Kakarrot's wake. Her emotional state was already volatile enough without knowing the life altering decision that had been made without her consult, "We will go from there."

The 'we' part of his declaration seemed to snap the fragile woman into some sort of rabid attention as she jerked her body away from his, as if suddenly realizing whom she had been speaking to. "I am not going anywhere with you," she rose to her feet and began taking steps away from him, tears still flowing from her eyes as she began to vent her rage. "How could he be dead, when there is still breath in your body?" the question was fortunately rhetorical, because if it had not been, Vegeta would have been unable to voice an answer. "You are the monster. Kakarrot was just an innocent, an honorable, gentle man who fought only with the purest of intentions. How could fate take him and not you? It should have been _you_," she suddenly lunged forward, pressing her hands against her visitor's chest, pushing him only a half-step back. "You are the one who deserves to die for all the crimes you have committed," another push, "you are the one who should suffer, you are the one who had nothing to live for," two more, and then she stopped, cold in her tracks, balling up her fists before taking a deep breath, "Get off of my grounds." 

Her body turned from his, either having lost the will to argue, or too disgusted by his sight to stomach his further presence; perhaps both, but Vegeta was not about to heed her order. "It is not that simple, Bulma," he blocked her path. If this was going to be her attitude, then what little sympathy he held would be forgotten. "Look, I realize that you hate me, and perhaps that is justifiable—"

"Perhaps!?" she hissed indignantly, raising her fist as if to strike him, but he corrected himself before she could complete the blow. 

"As I told you five years ago, I regret what I did, but damn it, I can not change it. We have to move on, and unfortunately Kakarrot's death means that we have to do so together." He was not certain if the shocked expression upon her face was the result of his rueful admission or his suggestion that they had to do anything together, but again, he had a feeling it was perhaps a bit of both. "Get changed, pack whatever you need for a few days stay, I will send for everything else later. We leave in an hour." 

Her defiance was not altogether surprising, but that made it no less irritating. "Do not dare order me around as if I am yours to do with as you wish! The only way I will even consider following your wishes is if you explain to me what the hell Kakarrot's death has to do with us." Her lips trembled as she admitted her fiancé's state of being, but she seemed unwilling to show any more emotion before him, clearly still so untrusting after all these years. 

"You are in no state of mind to deal with politics, my lady. Now do as I ask, and all of your questions will be answered after you have had a chance to digest what I have just told you." Of course it could not have been that easy. 

"Politics?" a horror-struck expression fell upon her face; she clearly understood more than he had hoped she would. "Tell me now; I will not live in fear of what vile plot has been cooked up against my person."  

"You need not live in fear, my lady, the plans that have been made are for your protection," it was a lie. Her protection was the last consideration in making the decision. But she would be safe; he owed it to her to see to that at the very least. "You have my word, once you are settled in at my newly reclaimed estate, you will be told all." 

"Your word?" she snorted disbelievingly, "What good is _your_ word? Only an honorable man can place any amount of assurance on merely his word, which means _your_ word is just a little less trustworthy than that of a complete stranger." It was a direct hit, and she knew it. There were only two subjects that could ruffle his feathers: his honor, and his capability. She seemed to want there to be no mistaking that she still had not forgiven him for that night; she perhaps never would.

"Then you will just have to trust in my selfishness, because I will not tell you a damn thing until I am good and ready, so this conversation is a waste of our time. Now," he took a menacing step towards her, he did not want her to fear him again, but it seemed the damage was already done, so his forcing her submission in this matter would scarcely change her already impenetrable disgust, "go pack your things and then wait for me in my carriage outside." 

"And if I refuse?" 

He smirked as she dared to suggest defying him. How little she had learned these last five years. "Then I will put you bodily into my carriage and personally restrain you the entire ride, your choice." She clearly believed him, because she lifted her hand and slapped him hard across his face. He would have bet anything that was years of pent of rage in the making. 

"I hate you," it seemed to echo through the room even after she was gone. He was not surprised to hear it. As forgiving a person as she was, he knew his actions had pushed her past her limits. But there was no changing that now; he had dug his own grave, he just never imagined having to lie in it so many years later. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the carriage ride, a thick silence had been maintained. Bulma sat on the forward side, gazing out the left window, while Vegeta sat opposite her, his head down and eyes closed, seemingly very much in contemplation. But more likely, he did not have the courage to look at her after what he had done. For five all too short years he had kept his distance. Not surprisingly, he wanted to face what had happened between them no more than she did. 

He had said he regretted his actions that night, but how could she believe him? He had bombarded her with a pack of lies that miserable evening. How was she to know fact from fiction with this man? Perhaps through the one promise he did keep, the one lie he told that ultimately he made a truth. He had stopped almost immediately all-unnecessary violence. 

Kakarrot had always kept Bulma well informed about his brother. As much as it sickened her to know the better man, for some insane reason, looked up to his elder brother, she never halted his bantering. She had felt some sense of purpose, some sense of worth for that night, when Kakarrot had arrived back at her home a few short weeks later with the joyous news that her 'talk' with his elder brother must have done the trick because he was gradually making changes to his plans, changes that would spare lives. 

It was joyous news, of course. And perhaps her abhorrence of Vegeta shifted to merely hate, a hate she had to perpetually hide from the world, but most especially from Kakarrot. For to admit her newly acquired dislike of the man, she would have to tell him what had happened that night, a secret she would take to the grave, if only fate would allow it. 

Kakarrot had probed many times, wondering why she had suddenly refused all audiences with his brother. Not that Vegeta ever once came desiring to see her, but she had made certain the few times the bastard had returned to her home, that she had left to visit a friend, or was locked away in her room with some fabricated illness. Bulma wanted no part of his _highness_ ever again, and she naively believed marrying Kakarrot would help her do that, help her to move on, to forget. But now, as with every other prospect that had ever come to pass in her life, it was gone. Kakarrot was gone. Her hopes of a future with a man she loved forever dashed, while now she was being forced to follow the orders of a man she despised, the man who had ruined her, a man whose fate she had never again wanted intertwined with her own. 

_The moment she realized he had been drinking, she should have turned away. But her stubborn nature would not allow the retreat. He had finally gone too far. Just days before his arrival at the estate of her late father, for the one-week he had taken each year to unwind while his younger brother took the helm of the battle, Bulma had learned of his latest abominable transgression.  _

_He had ordered a village of elderly men, women, and children to be executed after it had been discovered that they was supplying weapons, uniforms, and intelligence for Nappa's forces. Now, perhaps she was an idealist, but sinking to Nappa's level, no longer having any regard for the people who have unfairly been forced to choose sides in this global display of machismo, completely disordered the lines of good and evil, right and wrong. Vegeta was no longer adhering to the honor code her father had died fighting to uphold, and she would not stand for it anymore. _

_"We need to talk," she hid the anger in her voice as she closed his chamber's door behind her. She wanted to have a reasonable conversation with him; she had hoped she could get through to him where Kakarrot had failed. She was wrong. _

_"Bulma?" he sounded genuinely stunned as he walked out of the shadows into the ample moonlight from the window behind him. To her uncomfortable realization, she eyed his bare chest glistening under the translucent shower. His skin looked so smooth, so soft that for a brief, improper moment, she wanted to touch him. "Do you have any idea how indecent it is to enter into a man's chambers in the dead of the night? Not to mention, dangerous." His voice had a feline purr to it as he approached her. The bottle he had been drinking from, no longer in his hand. "Tell me, what is so pressing that you had to see me under such tempting circumstances." _

_She had not been sure what 'tempting' meant, but something about the way his eyes roamed over her nightgown clad body made her want to check to make certain she was still in fact protected by the fabric. "I want you to stop all the senseless killing," she sidestepped him as she walked towards the night table by his bed. Bending over slightly to rest the candles she had been holding to illuminate the dark, unwelcoming room, she straightened to feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Twisting her head to the side, she saw his masculine figure hovering behind her, not more than an inch away. "I heard about the village you most recently slaughtered, you are becoming no better than Nappa." _

_She had hoped the comparison would spark some outrage in him, anything besides this eerie silence that forced her to focus on the sound of his slightly labored breathing. "You have developed nicely over the years, do you know that?" he finally offered, clearly unconcerned with her purpose for seeking him out. Enraged by his choice to brush her off, she spun around to release a string of curses at the ignorant bastard, but before she could whisper a word, she realized the error in her decision to face him. He was closer than she had thought, her chest brushed right up against his, and before she had a chance to gasp in indignation, her calves where trapped against his bed, his arm locking around her waist, eliminating any escape. _

_"So innocent," his voice reverberated in his throat as he pressed his entire length against hers, his nose groping through her hair, as if trying to inhale the scent of her every strand. _

_"Vegeta, stop it!" she had pressed against his chest with all her might. Aside from his improper forwardness, something seemed to be caught between them, something long and stiff that was painfully digging into her pelvis._

_Partially heeding her plea, he halted his attentions to her hair, but made no move to release her. "Do you have any idea how long it has been since I have had the chance to bask in the warmth of a woman's flesh?" His free hand encircled her face, and then slowly glided down to her cleavage line. Drawing his finger along the seam until he reached her shoulder, he gently pulled the fabric down, exposing some of her milky skin, but discontinuing before revealing a breast. _

_"Stop it," her voice held less conviction than it had the first time. She did not understand why his touch made her skin burn in the most mind numbingly blissful ways. Lifting her arm to cover her exposed skin, her movement was broken as her hand brushed against his naked chest, the warm, strapping chest she had been incongruously admiring just moments ago. As if she were a puppet being controlled by a puppeteer, she flattened her hand against his skin... _

"Is something wrong?" Vegeta's husky voice startled her from her memory as she looked across the carriage to see him gazing down at her in an expression akin to concern. 

"I am fine." She looked down to realize she had been tightly pulling a handkerchief so tautly that her knuckles were a ghostly shade of white, the memory clearly as uncomfortable to relive even now that five years had passed. "Considering I have just learned my fiancé is dead, and his black sheep of a brother has abducted me from my home where I should have been left to properly grieve, I would imagine I am handling the situation quite well."  

He gave a brisk nod as if he had not heard her insult and turned his head towards the right window, slouching in his seat as he crossed his arms, taking a deep breath before speaking somberly, "This will be easier for the both of us if you try to be civil."

"Civil?" Who the hell was he to ask for civility after all the uncivil acts he had committed over the last ten years!? "Do you honestly believe any such courtesy can lie between two enemies?"  
  


"You think we are enemies?" He swung his head back towards her, the paled expression upon his face clearly proving that for the first time he finally realized how deeply her resentment ran. "You hate me that much, to base your entire opinion of me on my worst act? You used to be so forgiving." He seemed stunned, had he not realized the emotional damage he had inflicted upon an impressionable sixteen-year-old? 

"Yes, well," she choked out a harsh chuckle, "I _used_ to be a lot of things." The true meaning of her comment was not in the least lost on him. He knew what he had selfishly taken from her, but he clearly had no intentions of addressing it now after so many years. Probably for the best, since she wanted no part in reliving the most life altering night of her existence. 

The impenetrable silence that followed her comment lasted for the rest of the journey. When they finally arrived, Vegeta had guided his guest to a private room where she was allowed some time to wash up before dinner. Only then did he promise he would reveal his true purpose in bringing her to his home, and the most likely unpleasant effects it would have on her life. She could only pray his reason for bringing her here had nothing to do with, as she feared, the centripetal force of karma.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How the fuck am I supposed to tell her, Radditz?" The last in a short line of generals who had survived the war, Radditz, had been appointed Vegeta's personal advisor. The elder man had been most insistent upon the necessity Vegeta was now going to have to lay upon Bulma at dinner tonight. 

"You have no choice, Vegeta. With Seripa's newly discovered allegiance to Nexus, it is imperative you marry her daughter and solidify proper alliances with the Tomabatsu before we have another war on our hands, one in which we do not have the manpower to fight and win right now. So trust me when I tell you that whatever little spat the two of you had in the past, it pales in comparison to what will happen if Nexus marries Bulma as Seripa has been planning." 

"That stupid bitch should have been killed long ago!" Vegeta slammed his hand upon the desk before him. "I will never understand what Toma saw in her."

"We have to move fast, of course," Radditz continued with little note for his king's outburst. "Seripa will begin to get suspicious if we keep Bulma here a minute longer than is necessary for your brother's funeral. So your marriage has to be agreed upon and unified within a matter of days. You have to make Bulma understand the gravity of the situation," which Radditz assumed could not be as difficult as his king was implying. Regardless of whatever transgression Bulma held Vegeta in contempt for, Nexus killed her love. Surely when choosing between the two evils, Vegeta would be the lesser. 

"And what if I can not? She hates me, Radditz. Not dislike, _hate_, and to be frank, I am not much more excited about the prospect of marrying her, myself. My brother's grave is still fresh. I will take much heat for this." Scandal, this would result in nothing short of scandal. He will be seen as a coldhearted fiend who helped himself to his dead brother's fiancé even before the man's body was found. Though Vegeta was not a man to care for maintaining a proper image, he knew Bulma was. She would only hate him more for this, if that were even possible. 

"As with every scandal, its endurance will not be for long," the advisor insisted. "Not that I think this will create a great one. Most of your people are so wrapped up in putting their lives back together they do not care about your affairs. As long as you keep them out of another war, you will become as revered as your father. Marrying Bulma will ensure it." 

Rising from his seat, Vegeta walked towards the exit, stopping only momentarily to grab his cape. Properly adjusting it to fall evenly down his back, Vegeta offered a difficult admission. "I will speak with her, explain the severity of the situation, and again demand her hand in marriage, but Radditz," he cleared his throat, turning around to face the advisor as he warned adamantly, "If she says no, I will not force her, not again." Those last two words were inaudible as Vegeta turned and exited the room. So lost in his musings, the king failed to hear Radditz's bewildered question.

"What do you mean, demand that she marry you _again_?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Hm… So we know the real reason Vegeta has brought Bulma to his home. What will happen at dinner when he lays his cards on the table and is forced to propose to her? How will Bulma react? Her reaction and another clue as to what happened between them five years ago, next time…


	3. Proposal

Unwanted 

**__**

Chapter 3 – Proposal 

By the time Vegeta had arrived at the dining hall, Bulma was already seated. Her hands were folded tightly on her lap as she stared at the floor, no doubt musing about what scheme had been cooked up against her. She would not have to wait much longer to know. 

"I apologize for my lateness," he nodded without further explanation before taking a seat across from her. The table was long, capable of fitting at least six more guests down each of the two lengths, keeping the pair the greatest distance apart they could be from one another. Probably best, considering what he had to tell her. 

The servants were called, and the table was quickly filled with an assortment of foods. Once the setting was completed, all serfs were dismissed, leaving Bulma and Vegeta to eat alone, in an uncomfortable silence. 

Vegeta finished first. Though he had taken larger helpings than his companion, he was not following any rules of etiquette as she. He did not squarely cut his food, or nibble each morsel daintily, dabbing his lips when so much as a crumb was out of place. He used his fingers, swallowing food whole, and wiping his lips with his sleeve. He was a man who had no need to practice any form of etiquette when living on the battlefield. He felt no need to relearn such practices now, especially not for a woman who had seen him at his worst. 

Swallowing the last of the liquor in his goblet, Vegeta set his cup aside. As much as the thought of being intoxicated for this evening appealed to him, he would not succumb to the mind-altering urge. He needed his thoughts to be clear tonight. He could not afford a repeat of their last encounter. 

Stretching his gaze across the table, Vegeta could not help but allow himself a moment to observe Bulma's striking beauty. If anything, the years he had been in absence of her presence only served to enhance her attractiveness. Her features were more definite, her figure more feminine, and her disposition, certainly adult. He could tell merely by the way she had scolded him earlier that the little girl he had once known was clearly grown up. He surmised this had both pros and cons. Certainly her age was a benefit because she would be easier to reason with, but conversely, her lack of youth would likely make her harder to manipulate. 

Unlike she was five years ago. Her naivety had delivered her into his selfish clutches. Back then he had been just bastard enough to use her innocence for his own greedy purposes. 

_His body quaked with a desire he had never felt for a woman. The experimental touch of her hand over one of his pectoral muscles was shockingly satisfying. Perhaps it had simply been too long since he had had a woman. Or perhaps the physical pain of battle had simply taught him to cherish the more delicate of pleasures the Saiya-jin body could experience. Either way, he knew he was going to bask in the femininity this dainty creature offered the moment she entered his room. _

_Her youth was insultingly apparent when she insisted he be more noble in his methods of warring. She clearly had been speaking to his softhearted brother, fool that he was to send his ladylove to try and reason with him. In the dead of the night, in his bedchambers, perhaps she had hoped he would advance on her? What other sane reason was there for her impromptu appearance? _

_Innocence._

_Yes, she was as pure as they come. A most deliciously appealing trait any man would lick his dry lips over. But Bulma, she was more than just innocent, she was beautiful. In the last year he had more frequently been finding excuses to visit Toma's lands. And every time he came, he could scarcely ignore the girl's physical developments. Her breasts had rounded magnificently, her hips curved just enough to denote her womanhood, but still slender, as was her entire body, to maintain a gentility that would mesh ideally against his manliness. _

_She had certainly become an eye stopper with her exotic azure tresses and bottomless sapphire orbs. She was every man's wet dream, even his own in recent months, but no man ever dared mar her purity. As attractive as she had grown, she was still a cub of sixteen. And while he had learned the euphoria of coupling well before that age, females have expectations placed upon them, expectations that greatly differed from those of males. Bulma was a proper lady of an elite batsu; she was expected to wait until she was legally bonded to a man before learning all the secrets of mating. _

_Yet such important facts were only fleeting thoughts to Vegeta as he swelled with need. He wanted to strip her of every last stitch of clothing and absorb the nude sight of her. He wanted to lay her out on his bed and teach her the dance of old. He wanted her complete submission, and he wanted it at that very moment. "You do not really want me to stop, do you?" he placed a hand over hers, closing his eyes, he guided her delicate fingers down his torso, allowing her to feel his every muscle, and then finally, the most firm. _

_The shocked gasp she released as he placed her palm over his aching erection jolted his eyes open; it pleased him to watch as her confused face flushed. So innocent. "Do you know what this is?" he inhaled a shallow breath as he began circling her palm against his member. "It is the part of a male that brings a female her pleasure," he took another breath. Her grip tightened, she was curious. Good. _

_"I—I don't think I understand," the flabbergasted expression she shot him as she looked into his lust filled eyes was priceless. Her edification would be thoroughly entertaining. _

_"Of course not, but I can show you, do you want me to teach you the ways of a man and a woman, Bulma?" It was a greedily unfair question. She was merely sixteen, and did not understand that he was seducing her. Any honorable man would have surely sent her away the moment she walked into his room, but he was not an honorable man. _

_Not, of course, that what he was doing was entirely wrong. Actually, one could even argue he was doing her a favor. He would awaken her body with knowledge of the male touch, he would teach her how to pleasure a man, and receive pleasure in return. But he would stop before taking her virginity. He did, after all, not need a scandal to erupt. Deflowering a virgin of her title was an offense punished with the most horrid of penalties: marriage. And he sure as hell wanted no part in the ridiculous institution. _

_Yes, he was certainly doing her a favor. In exchange for her cooperation in bringing him some long overdue pleasure, he would give her a night to remember. However, his plan was highly dependent on her willing to participate in the lesson. So when she stepped away from him, releasing his stiffness, he found himself having to rethink his strategy. "No, Vegeta, this is wrong," she was as adamant as the first time she had told him to stop. Pulling her nightdress back into place, she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly appearing self-conscious. "I may not be an expert on what happens between a man and a woman in the privacy of their bedroom, but that is something my husband will teach me after we are married." She twisted around, showing her back to him. "I came here tonight because I hoped we could discuss what has happened to make you this heartless monster on the battlefield, but I suppose I was naïve to think you would be interested in a simple dialogue." _

_How right she was, but he was willing to humor her if it meant getting what he wanted, and if he knew women, an outpour of gut wrenching emotion would do the trick. Clasping her arms, he slowly turned her around to face him. He knew what she wanted to hear. So, in his meekest of voices, he began a meticulous string of half-truths and lies. "Do you think I am proud of what I have become? First my mother is murdered and then my father is executed, leaving me alone in the world. All I have is this battle to keep me going, and in this war, soft emotions and mercy will only get you killed. It happened to both our fathers, but I will not fall like them." He threw the comparison in for good measure, letting her think they were one of a kind would make her submission all the easier. _

_"Our fathers fought bravely and died honorably. You should be proud of them, not look upon them as failures. True victory can never be achieved unless, when you are the last man standing, you can proudly say you triumphed over evil, which includes the evil inside of you," she pressed her hand over his heart, as if to emphasize her point. Perhaps she had one, but all he registered was her soft flesh burning his once again. "And you are not alone either," she offered quietly after a long pause. Had he mentioned being alone? His duplicity was already long forgotten. "You still have your brother and," her face fell; he had the strangest feeling she was hiding a blush, "You will always have my friendship." _

_Ah yes, a subject he had been waiting for them to return to. "What if I want—need, more than just your friendship?" he used a free hand to raise her chin. She looked sympathetic. Excellent. Crawling his fingers over her jawbone, to her cheek, he stopped as he cupped her face. Leaning his forehead against hers, he demanded, "Prove to me I am not alone. Spend the night with me. Lay with me," he whispered his final request against her ear. He could feel her body tremble as the thought filtered through her mind. He would help hasten her decision. _

_Pressing his lips against hers, he plundered her mouth, using her shock at his bold actions against her as he slid his tongue inside her warmth. She tasted so sweet, he could have savored her for hours, but a continual pounding against his chest stopped him. Irately pulling her away from him, he watched, thoroughly affronted, as she wiped her lips off, "You taste of foul alcohol. How much have you had to drink today?" _

_He mentally kicked himself. How quickly he had forgotten his more typical retreat from reality, a mind altering bottle of whatever he could get his hands on to insure his inebriation. But he had just started his descent into oblivion before she came to him; he was far from completely out of his senses. How could he be, when he could see so clearly what he wanted? "I like to depart from reality at night; it helps me forget about my shame. But let tonight be different, be my distraction." He tried to kiss her again, but when she pulled away, he cursed under his breath. He was beginning to get sick of her reluctance. _

_"I do not want to be a distraction, Vegeta; I want to be loved by the first man I give myself to." Her confession was followed by a self-deprecating sigh that led Vegeta to believe there was a deeper meaning behind her thoughts, most likely the fantastic dreams of romance all young girls experience. How foolish she was to have such hopes. She would most likely have to take part in an arranged marriage, probably to a man she barely tolerated. If she wanted her fantasies fulfilled, now was her only chance, while she was young and could write off her actions as naïve._

_Attempting one more try to entice her willingness, he made his plea, "You do not have to give yourself to me completely; just let me have some of you. Please, Bulma," he grasped her hands in his, practically begging her compliance. If he was not so damn erect, he might have cared what this facade was doing to his pride. "Don't make me go back to this war without knowing your touch. Every day I fight could be my last, and I would die an unhappy man if I gave up this chance to be with you. You have always been so precious to me, Bulma, please, just give me this night." His last cry came out almost as a choked sob. He could not remember the last time he was in this much pain. And being a man who prided himself on control, this was becoming down right humiliating. _

_"If—If I do this, will I no longer be a virgin when we are done?" Her voice was shaky, but she was considering it. About damn time. "No, I will not take it. I promise. Tonight, I will bring you nothing but pleasure, and no one, not even the perfect husband you are waiting for, will ever have to know." But he would, and damn it, right now that was all that mattered! "Say, yes." _

_She was quiet for some time, clearly weighing her options, before she softly asked, "Will you stop if I do not like what you are doing, or I change my mind?" He frowned as he gazed down at her. She looked about as excited to lay with him as a lamb does before being taken to the slaughter. But that was only because she was afraid of what she did not know. He would show her differently tonight. There will be no rejection. _

_"I swear it," he was about ready to pounce on her, but she had to make one more demand. He would have said yes to anything if it meant getting her on his bed. _

_"You will stop the senseless violence as well? I could not lay with a man who makes sport of innocent women and children." She was still worried about that? Yes, of course, he would make the damn promise. It would mean nothing after they left, but if it gave her peace of mind, where was the harm?_

_After he made his final false pledge, he swung one arm under her knees, and then the other behind her back, lifting her into the air with a start. He barely heard her final affirmation. The moment he laid her on the bed, he forgot all of the manipulation he had to use to get her there. All that mattered was that she was there, and nothing was going to spoil his having her..._

"I asked you a question, Vegeta. Now I want an answer!" The king was quickly snapped from his daze as he stared across the table at his irate guest, a woman he had scorned so deeply those short years ago. He briefly wondered where he found the gall to face her now. 

"Yes, you want to know why you are here," Vegeta assumed as he ran his fingers through his hair in a physical gesture to calm himself. Now was not the time to remember, not when he needed to stay levelheaded. "I will not keep you in suspense any longer then." He rose from his seat and walked to the side of the room to pull out the document that verified what he was about to tell her. Once the papers were claimed, he returned to her side of the table and took a seat at the chair immediately to her right. "I intercepted these last month." He set the text before her. "This, my lady, is my ulterior motive for bringing you here."

She looked at Vegeta, then down at the document, then back to her host, seeming to assess if there was some danger to looking at what was placed before her. Then, not a moment before she felt secure in grasping them, she did so, and began to silently read what was inside. When she finished, she threw the papers back at Vegeta and rose from her chair, knocking it over in the process, "Lies, all of it! You fabricated that document!" 

Of course she would assume that. What loyal child would wish to see their parent proven to have committed treason? But she had to know exactly where her mother's alliances lay, and then she would have to choose where hers did. His hope, with him. "What purpose could I possibly have for weaving such lies? You know I have the utmost respect for the Tomabatsu. Without your people's support, this war could not have been won."

She twisted away, anger clearly in her eyes. She must have realized he was telling her the truth, and in her frustration to determine what other possible excuse he may have for lying to her. She seemed to have come up short on an answer as she snapped a juxtaposed question, "Why would my mother betray her own people, her own daughter, desecrating the memory of her dead husband!?" 

Good, she was thinking, perhaps she could be reasoned with. "You know better than anyone your parents had their differences when it came to politics. While your father was content to live in the peace of country life, your mother wanted power. I cannot say I was surprised when I learned of her interest in an alliance with Nexus. If the Tomabatsu and what lingers of the Nappabatsu were to join forces, my batsu, or what is left of it would be obliterated, and your mother and Nexus would reign supreme over the planet." He hit a nerve. His logic was too sound, and her knowledge of her mother's power lust was more than enough to eliminate any chance of preposterousness. But she would not admit to the reality without reservation.  

"Even if I believe this," she did, he knew, but she would never acknowledge it to him, "you did not need to drag me all of the way out here to advise me against accepting Nexus. That bastard is the offspring of the man who killed my father. Not to mention among his recent sins, he is very likely the murderer of the man I loved. I would sooner pour hot wax over every inch of my body than let that beast touch me, in a legal marriage or otherwise."

He felt the momentum of their conversation come to a grinding halt. By the gods, she did not understand. He would have to spell it out for her. "It is not enough that you simply reject Nexus, Bulma." He rose from his seat; taking a careful step forward as he grasped the chair she had knocked over and returned it to its proper position. "If your mother agrees to the match, you will have no choice in the matter." He returned to his seat, wanting as much distance from her as he finished his point. "There is only one way to ensure Nexus can place no claim on you, and that is by taking away your mother's rights over you." 

It must have finally clicked in her mind, because a wide-eyed expression fell suddenly upon her anguished features. "Taking them from her, and giving them to _you_." Judging by the frosty glare she shot at him, she had every intention of looking at the situation from the most pessimistic of perspectives. 

With a stiff nod, Vegeta eased his posture as he curved his back to fit the contours of his chair. He might as well be comfortable as he dealt with what was shaping up to be one of the most difficult offensives of his life. "I could sit here dancing around the subject for hours, but since time is of the essence, I will be frank. You have to marry me. Kakarrot is dead, no doubt because Nexus wanted him out of the picture so he and your mother's plans would not be ruined. So unfortunately, I am all that is left. I need to ensure the unity of our peoples; our wedlock will do that. If you refuse, I will not force you, but be fully aware that if you return to your mother, you will be without my protection. You will be forced to marry Nexus, regardless of how determined or capable you believe you are to avoid the union. Our peoples will then war, and blood will be spilt again, unless," it may have sounded as if he was pausing for dramatic effect, though in truth he simply needed to breathe. His tone was becoming too harsh as he spoke of Nexus' insurrection, he did not want to vow his allegiance to her with such a disposition, "Unless you marry me." He locked eyes with her, softening his tone as he did so, "You will not only prevent another war, but I can assure you that life with me will be much less painful than with Nexus."  

Her lips curled up slightly and for a moment he expected her to laugh at his promise, but she did not, instead her lips began to tremble before she turned her back to him once more. Taking what he assumed was a few moments to compose herself, he heard her take one long, deep breath before returning to face him. "There are two men on this planet who I would rather spend an eternity alone burning in the fires of hell than marry, and you are telling me that I have to chose between them? I have to try and determine which one is less detestable? Not to mention," she walked closer to him, her expression pure contempt. "The man I wanted to be with is not even in his grave yet. No body has been found, his funeral has not even taken place and you want me to—" She choked as her head lowered, barely able to speak as she grasped the top of her chair to steady herself. "You are asking me to betray him." 

She fell into her seat, her elbow propped up on the arm of the chair as she rested her face in the palm of her hand. A strange urge compelled him to reach out to her, wanting to ease her suffering, but he extinguished it as fast as it ignited. This was not a woman who would welcome his affections; he had made sure of that five years ago. "Kakarrot would understand." Vegeta's tone was dispassionate. "He loved you, for longer than perhaps you even realize. He would want to see you safe." 

"With you?" she swung her gaze up to meet his, something close to indignation dancing in her sapphire orbs. "What protection will I have with you? You are no more a gentleman than Nexus." 

His fists tightened. If anyone else had dared to make such a brazen comparison, he would have struck him or her. But she knew better than anyone the depths of his depravity. It would be counterproductive to reinforce her beliefs. "Though I could argue with you on that point, I realize my efforts would be wasted, so let's simply be practical shall we?" He rose from his seat and glided towards the opposite side of the room, his cape swaying almost angrily behind him. Upon his return, a piece of parchment and a quill rested in his hand. "Marry me and I will grant any terms you demand." He set the blank sheet before her. "And since my word holds such little value to you, we can place it in writing. Insist upon any consequences you like, should I fail to adhere to your demands." 

She did not even glance down at the parchment as he made his offer. She maintained a probing stare, an unnerving stare to be precise. And then suddenly she blinked, several times, as if whatever deduction she was trying to make was finally decided. Glancing down at the writing instruments he had set before her, she pushed them away. "I want a chaste marriage. That is my only demand so let us not waste a sheet of parchment. Give me your word, on your brother's grave." She looked back towards him, as if challenging him to ever considering desecrating such a vow. 

"A chaste marriage, then. You have my word." An easy allowance, he would have never lain with her anyway. He had already vowed as much five years ago. "I will have a private ceremony prepared for the day after Kakarrot's wake. We will keep this quiet for as long as possible."

She nodded, barely, as she rose from her seat, her hands folded in front of her as she stated quietly, "I am tired. I believe I will retire now."

In respect, Vegeta too rose from his seat, offering to escort her back to her room, but she quickly rejected his offer. No doubt she wanted him nowhere near her chambers. Not a surprising reaction. 

Once left alone, the king sunk back into his seat. Remaining motionless for a moment, he allowed his anger to boil until in a fit of rage he swept his arm across the table, thrashing everything in his path to the floor before he stood and finished the job by flipping the table over completely. "Fuck!" the curse was growled as he stormed out of the dining room, opting to take a different exit than his 'fiancé.' 

He did not know what was wrong with him. He should be appeased that Bulma had, with less resistance than he anticipated, accepted his reasoning for their joining. But he was not. Her numbed expression as she departed had brought back memories, memories he had wished to keep dead and buried. Yet that seemed impossible now that she was here, so close to him, and now soon to be bound to him, legally at least, in a matter of days. 

How ironic that after five years of avoiding one another, blocking out what had happened between them, they would be forced into marriage and no doubt to one day broach the subject neither dared to speak of. "May you forgive me one day." A vision of her tear stained face flashed across his mind's eye as he arrived at his chambers. He did not doubt what would haunt his dreams tonight, the same subject that had haunted him every night for the last five years.

The night he betrayed her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: More of the past, from Bulma's perspective, will be revealed next time… 


	4. Her Memory

**__**

Unwanted 

**__**

Chapter 4 – Her Memory 

"Have a good evening, my Queen." 

The soft voice of a female servant brought Bulma back to her senses as she gazed numbly around what had been her living quarters for the past week. "When had I walked here?" the gap in her memory may have caused her some alarm had she not already been experiencing similar symptoms ever since her arrival at Vegeta's estate. Since that night, she had been slipping in and out of reality, trying to bar the heartache that she was currently calling a life. 

Kakarrot's wake had been just the beginning. The sound of Vegeta's voice still echoed through her mind as he, without invitation or warning, arrived at her chambers and laid down his plans for what should have been her final chance to say a private goodbye to a man she loved. 

_"It is wise that we be seen together throughout the evening. It will make our subsequent union seem less suspicious. I will play the part of the dutiful brother whom protects his kin's bereaved love. Though I am sure your mind will be elsewhere come the ceremony, I thought to warn you so you would not be alarmed by my presence." _

She had been anyway. It was traumatizing enough to have to sit and listen to a Saiya-jin holy man, whom no doubt never met Kakarrot once in his life, preach impassively about how 'honorable' his death was. But to have to suffer the ordeal next to Vegeta, she imagined if hell had an opening for her, that was surely it. Feeling Vegeta's arm wrapped around her waist or a gloved finger wiping her tears away, it was a silent torture like no other she had ever experienced.  

With such insincerity he consoled her. It was nothing short of nauseating to watch a man, whom detested affection, have to put on a believable display of it. Though he may have fooled his audience, he had not done so with her. She knew what true care and concern looked like upon the face of a loving man; she had seen it countless times with Kakarrot. _His_ console was nothing like the impassive drivel Vegeta displayed.   

_"You did well, for a woman who confesses to despise me as deeply you do." _He laughed, as if there was some humor in the jest he offered after returning her to her chambers that night. Self-obsessed, as always, the bastard could not have possibly realized she did not care about their impending nuptials or what the public believed about her. The entire day her mind had been fixed upon Kakarrot's bodiless tomb, it's emptiness merely a reflection of how she felt inside. 

So hollow, she could barely conjure the memory of what should have been the most blissful day of her life: her wedding day. She scarcely recalled the servants who garbed her in a simple powder blue gown Vegeta had ordered for the small ceremony. She brokenly remembered the sight of his royal blue armor as she stood across from him, listening to him repeating his emotionless vows, and then the long pause that emulated throughout the room before she had spoken hers. "Repeat the damn words," Vegeta had snapped ever so callously under his breath. She would never forget the threatening resonance in his voice, not the gently spoken words of love and devotion she would have heard from Kakarrot had he survived. 

When the disastrous rite concluded and the overseer of the union granted 'man' allowance to kiss his 'wife,' she had turned a cold cheek to him just in time to avoid his affection; she had wanted none of it. 

_"If we are quite done, I believe I would like to retire to my chambers." _

She had not been asking for permission then, merely alerting him to her intentions. That must have been when he ordered the servant to accompany her, because here she was, in her lovely gown, with her loosely curled tresses and no other jewels adorning her skin other than that of the plain gold band suffocating her finger. 

Gazing down at the ring encircling her shaky digit, she felt a rush of tears overflow from her eyes as she realized exactly what the small symbol meant, "He might as well have branded 'Vegeta's property' on my forehead." She grabbed the vanity that housed all of her superficial possessions and violently thrust it down to the ground, "Damn it!" She released a string of curses as she sobbingly began pacing her room, breaking, throwing and overturning any item she could get her hands on.

Her voice cracked as she screamed a hoarse cry at the top of her lungs. Lost for objects to destroy, she started ripping at her dress, stripping it from her body as though it had been drenched with poison. She wanted none of it. She did not want his ring, his dress, his damn room; she did not want any part of him! Throwing her ring to the ground atop of the pile of her discarded garments, she ran to her closet and pulled out a long silken white nightgown. A garment she owned, that was solely hers and not tainted with the debt of a man she wanted nothing to do with. 

My husband… 

It sounded so wrong, but horrifyingly it was true. She was bound to a man she did not love, who did not love her in return. She had partaken in what she had feared most, an emotionless marriage. 

Struck by the awesomeness of her state of being, Bulma dazedly glided over to her bed, pulling back the covers and crawling under them for comfort. Fully protected by the warmth enclosing her, she reached out and slowly traced the center of the pillow next to her, where there should have been an indentation of a man's head, her husband's head, Kakarrot. 

But no, Kakarrot was not her husband. By some cruel twist of fate her existence was now the extension of his brother; a man who had wronged her was now her husband, her husband! Retracting her fingers from the pillow beside her, she felt a moment of relief. Things could have been worse after all. Now that they were joined he could easily come into her chambers, demanding his rights and she would be powerless to stop him. Not that she would have forfeited a damn good fight. She would not lie back and simply accept as she had last time.

_Last time…_

The memory crept into her mind like an agile thief in the night. She had not wanted to remember, she never wanted to remember, but closing her eyes she could not help but see him. Her husband's finely chiseled torso descending upon hers, preparing to teach her things she had no right to learn. That night, in exchange for knowledge, he had taken her greatest possession, a possession he had no right to take.  

"Well, I suppose there is one benefit to marrying Vegeta," a bone-chilling chuckle escaped her lips before the line between conscious and unconscious finally skewed into an uncontrolled bombardment of recollection, "I do not have to explain to him why I am unchaste." 

_She was nervous. The moment her back touched his silk sheets, a terrible sense of dread filled her. What had she been thinking, agreeing to this? Ah, now, there was the rub. She was not thinking. Her body had been set aflame the moment she walked into his ominous room. And as uninformed as she was about mating, her body told her very clearly that this throbbing she felt would only subside under his attentions, Vegeta's attentions. _

_A long time friend, well, perhaps friend was too optimistic a title, Vegeta was never the most gentlemanly of men when it came to her. He had teased, insulted, and on more than one occasion embarrassed her, mocking her youth or inexperience.  A part of her always hoped he had done so to shake some reality into her fearless mentality, but she knew better. A part of Vegeta was perpetually broken, the part of him that once had been goodness in him. She had seen it happen after the death of their fathers. _

_It had been no surprise when she began to hear of the more ghastly methods of warfare he had begun to implement. So enraged over her father's death, a part of her savored the thought that those who had aided in the murder were now paying the same humiliation, but as the sting of his death slowly wore off, her sense of morality returned, unlike with Vegeta, who experienced no visible rebound. He continued to sink deeper and deeper into his obsessive pursuit of revenge, damning anyone who dared get in his way during the process.  _

_But tonight he seemed receptive, finally willing to embrace something that did not have to be ruled by hate. He asked her to lay with him, how could she refuse a drowning man a lifeline? Perhaps if she could just help him reawaken the good man she knew lay dormant inside him, a little piece of the innocent boy who died along with his parents could be resurrected.  _

_It was a strange sensation to kiss Vegeta. It had not been her first time touching lips with a man, of course. She and Kakarrot had experimented with one another, their curiosity getting the best of them. But Kakarrot's kisses had been nothing like this. Vegeta was not nearly as inexperienced as his brother. His touch, it was so much more schooled, as if he knew every curve of her body that desired to feel his hands gliding over her. _

_"Mmm… That feels nice," she was surprised to admit as her back arched under a power of its own. Gradually losing herself to his ministrations, she almost missed his chuckled response. _

_"Nice? Nice is what you call a kiss upon her your hand by an acquaintance. This, Bulma, is what you call passion." She shuddered as he grasped the thin straps to her nightdress and gradually began pulling them down her shoulders. Aghast, she moved her arms to push the straps back into place. However, her embarrassment seemed only to amuse him, "Do not look so shocked, my lady; did you honestly believe I could teach you the ways of a man and a woman without removing all unnatural barriers?" _

_He was right of course; she did not know what she had been thinking when he made the offer, perhaps a hope that they would experiment as innocently as she and Kakarrot had. But of course, she was wrong. This was Vegeta, and nothing about him was innocent. "Vegeta, perhaps this is not such a good id—" he covered her lips with his, silencing her protests. His kiss had been so mind numbing that she barely registered his soft fingertips returning to her shoulders. He grasped the straps once more and unthreateningly completed his original pursuit. He was so slow, so gentle, he made her feel safe._

_Rolling them to the side, he pushed the gown completely down her body. She kicked the thin garment away as he rolled back atop of her. His eyes devoured her. She had had nothing on underneath her nightgown, but now she wished she had. Every inch of her was exposed to him; she had never wanted to cover herself as much as she did at that moment.  "Beautiful," he complimented huskily as he allowed his fingers free reign over her nude body. _

_Vegeta, she moaned nervously. She was not sure what was happening to her body. It was growing hot and uncomfortable, her irritation beginning to centralize between her thighs. She knew it had to be wrong, what they were doing, but she could not bring herself to voice it, especially not as he bombarded her senses with the consuming presence of his own powerful body. _

_"You are already beginning to flow for me," she had no idea what that meant, but the sudden feel of a warm liquid emerging from her center and cascading out of her nether regions made her feel even more self-conscious. What was happening to her? "It's natural," he spoke as if he could read her mind. Pressing a hand flat against her stomach, he eased her tense body calmly against the bed, "Allow me to show you." _

_The last visual she imagined his offering was the stiff shaft she had wrongly clenched in his pants earlier, but his pants were no longer present. He was kneeling over her, as nude as she was, as he reached out to grasp her hands. "Feel this," he guided her fingers over his silky hardness, a creamy liquid was leaking out of the tip of his sexual organ as it had hers. She had never been more perplexed by a sight before her. She had known men and women were built differently, but she never imagined this._

_"What are these?" she reached down to the crux of his length, and then twisted her hands around to cup two hefty sacks that accompanied his firmness. With a slightly too tight squeeze, she quickly received her answer. _

_"Be gentle with those," he nearly choked out the command as he rested one hand on each of her shoulders as if he needed support. "They are extremely sensitive. They house the seed that will infuse a woman with child." _

_In a frantic horror, Bulma ended her investigation and crawled away from him, grabbing a blanket to shield her body from his probing eyes. "No, Vegeta, I—Oh god, I am too young to have a child. Please, cover yourself, this was a mistake." _

_With a stifled groan, Vegeta crawled over his covered bedmate, his look, one of irritation. "You can not conceive a child merely by touching me; I would have to penetrate you first." Her expression must have been one of bewilderment, because he pulled the covers away from her body and guided her onto her back. "Feel," he ordered as something suddenly slid inside her body. It was too short to be what he had been hiding in his pants, but, oh by the gods, it felt good. It was hitting ever crevice of her inner sanctum that could elicit a cry of mindless pleasure. And then, when she thought the feeling could be no more intense, the instrument inside her widened; one, then two times—his fingers. _

_Oh yes, that was it. She glanced between her heaving mounds, her legs spread wide for him as he paid heed to her most intimate of parts. "Vegeta," she moaned his name breathlessly as she threw an arm over her head, covering her eyes, wanting no visual of the devilish things he was doing to her. Good things, things she should never have been feeling. "Please, Vegeta, I can not bear it anymore," the blissful pain aching through her stomach, past her womb and throbbing most potently between her thighs was becoming too much to bear. At this rate, she was going to explode. _

_"Now you know how I feel," his teeth must have been clenched as he said so, because it came out roughly. "My pain," he pressed his body flush atop hers, or as flush as two people can get with a throbbing erection piercing one of the party's' pelvis. "I am suffering with you, princess. I had no idea it would be like this…"_

_"Vegeta," her breaths were labored, her heart was racing, she could not think, she could barely voice a coherent thought as he wrapped her legs around his waist, matching their most sacred treasures against one another. _

_It was then she should have known, perhaps not precisely what was to come next, but she should have known. After that night, she would be an innocent no more… _

"No!" Bulma awoke in a heated sweat as she fiercely wiped the tears from her eyes. She could see no more, she was not ready to face any more, to retrogress to the past, having to fight off the shame, the humiliation. She could not handle experiencing the nightmares all over again. No, more than nightmares, memories, memories of a night she had never forgotten.

Throwing the covers away from her body, Bulma rushed out of her room, not really focusing on where she was going, simply going; away from the memories, away from the occurrences that night, of how it changed her life. 

It seemed such a cruel twist of fate that now, once she had found some sense of routine, consistency in her existence, it had to be up heaved by the man she had been strategically cutting out of her life. Of course she had expected an imminent encounter with him, no doubt at her wedding with Kakarrot, but to have to face him now, fresh from facing the truth of her lover's death, scorning his memory, binding herself to his brother. The weight of the circumstances were simply too much to bear. 

Grasping her chest, she tried to calm her labored breathing as she picked up her pace. She was no longer walking, she was running, as if her physical movement could protect her from her psychological dangers. 

It could not. 

"Kakarrot," she called for the only man she had ever turned to in the face of fear. He had always been the person she could go to when her life became too great a challenge to face. He had always been her rock, her best friend, but now he was gone, taken from her, just as her father had been when she needed him the most. 

"I am completely alone." 

The realization stopped her cold in her tracks. Kakarrot, her father, this war, her marriage—Vegeta; it was all wrong. Her entire life had spun out of control. "Oh gods," she whispered as the overload to her senses finally caught up to her and her body began to sink towards the ground. Losing her fight for consciousness, she failed to register the strong arms that encircled her body before she could hit the ground, or the soft, atypically genuine, voice that whispered his concern as he carried her to comfort.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Hm… So we have yet another piece to 'that night.' The final bit to the story will be unveiled in the next chapter (which is very LONG, unlike this one), when Vegeta comes face to face with a few demons of his own. Will this pair find some way to move past their tumultuous history? Next time _His Memory_… 


	5. His Memory

Unwanted

**__**

Chapter 5 – His Memory

"Calm yourself, you are in no danger," Vegeta tried to pacify the woman as she tossed and turned in her discontented state of unconsciousness. He had been jarred from his restless wedding night of solitude, by the sound of a female voice calling for his deceased brother. He had not hesitated rushing from his room to determine why such a wretched call would have been made. Half out of his mind, he had thought it was a dream when he saw her angelic form in an almost translucent gown, barefoot and crying like a lost child. By the time he had reached her to ask what had brought her to such a state, she had fainted. 

Desiring the utmost discretion, he had carried her back to his chambers and laid her gently upon his bed, hoping she would quickly awaken to explain her erratic actions. But she did not have to awaken for his enlightenment; her insensible mumblings were enough to prove the most obvious of causes. 

"_No, Vegeta, I—Oh god, I am too young…_" she twisted her head aimlessly back and forth. He had to restrain her arms to prevent them from flailing. "_Please, Vegeta, I can not..._"

He recalled those words all too vividly to know she was not simply rambling aloud some nightmare; she was reliving a real one, one he had forced upon her, one he would never forgive himself for. 

_"Vegeta," her breaths were labored, her heart was racing. He could feel her passions flowing over the tip of his sex. He knew she was ready for him. "I have to have you," it was the only thought that instigated his next move, his fatal move, one that would only make sense to him at that very moment. "By the cursed gods, I need you." Believing foreplay would have been enough was a mistake; he should have known he could not end it there. He had touched heaven, for all the manipulation it took, for all the complaining he had to suffer through; he had dealt with it to have this woman, this heaven, at least the only heaven he would ever have a chance to touch. She was warm, safe, innocent. She was everything he was not. A part of him had always admired her for it, wanted her for it, to claim a part of it, and he did; at that moment, he had to. _

_She screamed, it was ear piercing. Anyone in earshot would have thought he was beating the poor girl. Perhaps this was worse. "The pain will ease, just lay still." He held her tightly again, focusing all his willpower to remain motionless. Not an ungodly task considering how fucking tight she was around his erupting hardness. Never, never, had it felt like this.  _

_"Vegeta?" she cried his name between tears, her virginal mind no doubt too naïve for the truth to register immediately. But the moment it did, he knew she would want an explanation. She would want to understand how he could have taken what he promised not to. He could offer her no answer to that, not yet at least. He could do nothing but hold onto her, and will that she would one day understand. But that one day would not be tonight, her crestfallen question proved as much, "You took my virginity, didn't you?" The fact that she had to ask made him shudder violently. This had to be the most wicked and violating act he had ever taken against another living being. He had taken this poor girl's maidenhood, a girl who trusted him as a friend. The repercussions would, no doubt, be life lasting, but he could not think long term right now. He had to ease her suffering, bringing her, them, the pleasure he had promised. _

_"Shhhh," he ran his fingers over her pale face, wiping her tears away, "Move with me, forget the pain, welcome the pleasure." When she remained limp beneath him as he began a few slow experimental strokes, he feared his penetration had soured her too deeply to believing anything he had said, but after what felt like an eternity, she proved him wrong. Slowly, tentatively, she raised her hips and gradually began working up a tempo that met his movements. _

_The moment her head flew back, closing her eyes, biting her lips, refusing to let him hear her enjoyment, he clenched he eyes shut, realizing it was probably better she hid her reaction. He was so far beyond the point of no return, he feared he would release before her, but he had to wait, he simply willed his body against taking from her more than he already had. He needed to feel her release first, he owed it to her. _

_She cried out wordlessly into the night, he felt her body spasm around him, and he lost whatever self-control he had left. Too late to pull out of her, he spilled his seed deep into her womb before collapsing on top of her. _

_Tears, they were the first image he saw as he opened his eyes to stare into those devastated blue orbs. She curled her legs into her chest, her maiden blood painfully visible to him because of her shift in body position. He had broken her. He had never meant to go so far, he had never meant to do anything more than what she wanted, begged of him, but as always, he had been selfish. So absorbed in his own need he failed to give a damn about hers, he failed to keep his promise to her. _

_What the hell had he been thinking?! Why had he pursued a virgin when he could have had any number of willing streetwalkers, married or widowed women without a single worry of hurt feelings or a danger to his life of solitude? His solitude, was that all he could worry about at that moment? He had seduced, lied, and manipulated to get her into his bed. She was merely sixteen and he had ruined her. _

_He did not know what to say as he lay next to her, watching her back convulse every time a sob wracked her body. What did he do? How could he make this right? He could not, he knew that, but he did have an obligation to her, one that entailed at the very least help to ease the physical damage he had done to her. Rising from the bed, he walked into his washroom and ran a warm bath for her. _

_"Bulma," he lifted her in his arms, "It will help ease your soreness." The words no doubt sounded hollow coming from the man who had caused her pain. Gently depositing her into the water, which had not been easy with her pounding her fists against any part of him that she could make contact with, he turned his back to the tub as he sunk down to the floor. Not having the strength to look at her, he whispered three words he had never used before, "I am sorry."_

_He heard the water shift as she most likely positioned herself comfortably in the warmth. As much as she hated his aid, even her pride could not have ignored the ease the liquid must have offered her. "I—" he was at a loss for words as his head fell into his hands. What could he say? There was no justification for his actions, no excuse plausible; he had lost control, plain and simple; and now he had to pay for it. "I will marry you, of course," a not altogether terrible arrangement for her, considering she would most likely be widowed in less than a year or so. The life expectancy of a man fighting as ceaselessly as he was only a matter of months at best, but he knew that was not the type of reassurance she needed to hear. "You can remain here; you would merely take my title. With the war, I can not yet offer you much more, but—"_

_"I will not marry you," she spoke barely above a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear. _

_"You have to," he sounded no more thrilled than she, "Besides the fact that you no longer have your virginity intact, there is a possibility, granted a small one, but possible nonetheless that you are with child. I will not allow my heir to be born a bastard." _

_"You did not mean anything you said, did you?" it was more of a realization than a question, "So foolish." He heard her scold herself under her breath. A pained chuckle followed it. "I guess you are amused by all this. I just let you take advantage of my stupidity."_

_"You think I planned this?" He turned around to glare at her. She would not look at him. "I lost control. Do you honestly think that is something I find amusement in?" _

_"Only because now you think it will land you in an undesirable union." Her accusation stung, but mostly because it was partially true._

_"Well, do not worry about it." She pushed herself up from under the water and stepped out of the tub. Following her back into the bedroom, Vegeta frowned as he watched her begin pulling her gown back on. When she finally finished dressing, she walked as gracefully as she could over to the exit, holding her head high, her blatant display of pride welled something haunting within him, something akin to shame. _

_"I will never marry you, Vegeta. You may have taken my virginity, but you will not have my only chance at happiness as well. One day I will find a man who loves me, who will not play mind games with me, not humiliate me or use me as his evening entertainment. When I find that man, Vegeta, it is he, and only he I will marry. While you," she twisted her head back slightly towards him, though not enough to make eye contact, "if I never see you again, it would still be too soon." She twisted the doorknob and attempted to leave, but he stopped her with a pertinent question. _

_"And what if you are with child?" He was not going to allow her to walk away with his heir, no matter how it was conceived. _

_Not turning around, she gave him a threatening response that would haunt him every day since to come, "I do not know. Perhaps I would terminate its life, perhaps I would give it to a family in want of a child, or perhaps I would keep it. I have any number of solutions, Vegeta, none of which would include marrying you or allowing you to sink your claws into an innocent child. So you need not worry, I can assure you there will be no child. At least not one you will ever lay eyes on." _

_She turned away from him, allowing him one last glimpse of her that would have to last for five years, before slamming the door shut behind her. _

Twisting his head towards the door, the sound had been so real, for a moment he believed someone had invaded his chambers, but no. He and Bulma were the only ones present. His eyes fell upon her perspiring figure. Though her distress was now less violent, it was still highly prevalent in her pained features. 

"I wish it did not have to be like this," he whispered honestly as he removed a few sweaty strands from across her flushed face. The gesture seemed to calm her trembling as she twisted her cheek towards his palm, sighing as she did so. 

"Kakarrot." 

Of course, she had mistaken his affection as that of his brother, the man she was more accustomed to turning to for comfort, the man she truly wanted. If only he had survived this final battle, damn it! Kakarrot should have be the one to marry her, ensuring a proper alliance with the Tomabatsu and making her as happy as she deserved to be, not himself, not a man she hated. 

_"…if I never see you again, it would still be too soon."_

Harsh words, though they were no less than what he deserved. He had wronged her, and of course warranted her scorn, but never had he expected the depths it would plummet within such an innocent. 

_"I do not know. Perhaps I would terminate its life, perhaps I would give it to a family in want of a child, or perhaps I would keep it. I have any number of solutions, Vegeta, none of which would include marrying you or allowing you to sink your claws into an innocent child. So you need not worry, I can assure you there will be no child. At least not one you will ever lay eyes on." _

Her last words had troubled him ever since. In granting his absence from her, he ensured her promise. He had no knowledge of whether or not he had sired a child as a result of that night. Though he suspected he had not, since Kakarrot visited her regularly, and would have surely reported such disturbing information to him, he had always wondered if... His eyes lowered to her flat stomach, her hand was lightly resting atop it as she breathed in and out heavily. The temptation to lift up her dress, to check her body for any signs of birthing, tempted his curiosity. To know once and for all if she had done as she promised, kept his child from him. But he could not allow himself to touch her so invasively, never again. 

Her eyes fluttered, and then shot open, her body jolting up straight as she observed her surroundings and then her company. Grabbing the coverings wrinkled beneath her, Bulma flung them over herself as she scooted to the far end of his bed, "What's going on?"

"You collapsed, and rather than making a scene carrying you back to your chambers, I brought you here. I assure you, I had no other intentions in doing so than to protect your reputation." And his, the last thing he needed was rumors surfacing that on their wedding night his bride was racing through the halls calling for his dead brother. "You need not fear me," he advised after noticing the tightness in which she protected herself with his blanket.

"I do _not_ fear you," she snapped much too sensitively as she twisted away from him, swinging her legs from under the covering, and rising to her feet, "I just do not trust you." She dashed towards the door, clearly wanting to escape the situation with as little emotional damage as possible. Unfortunately, he could not allow her to, not until he knew. 

"Did you have my child?" His question stopped her dead in her tracks, her back so stiff he feared she might snap. 

Turning slowly back around to face him, she lowly challenged, "You have no right to ask me such a question." She looked ready to slap him, but she clenched her fists, keeping them to her sides. 

"Perhaps," he concurred without doubt. "But I did, and I would now like an answer." 

"For what purpose?"

Her defensiveness set him on edge. Does this mean there is something for her to hide? Is that why she is so adamant about refusing to tell him? Or is this merely further proof that she is no closer to forgiving him than she had been the night of his trespass? "I would like to know if I have a son."

"A son?" she snorted terribly unladylike, "Only a son? If it were a daughter, would you be uninterested, Vegeta?" It was an awakening slap. A daughter? The thought had never occurred to him. For some reason, whenever he thought of the possibility of her belly swelling with his child, the aura he always sensed was that of a boy. It simply felt right, but before he could defend himself, she crossed her arms and started in with another set of insults, "And even if I had a child, why would you be interested? Surely by now you have sired dozens of bastards. Why not go bother one of them?"

His knuckles contracted, at the very least, on _this_ point he would defend himself, "I have no 'bastards.' I had never spilled my seed inside a woman before I was with you. A man of my stature can not afford to leave any loose ends untied."  

"Oh, how responsible of you," she cooed, the picture of sarcasm, "And how flattering it is to know that you chose me to be the first recipient of your _royal seed_." She deadpanned the last two words, proving she meant every bit the opposite of what she was saying. 

"That is not what I meant, and you damn well know it!" he slashed his arm through the air, proving his point with a somewhat violent gesture. Restraining the urge to grasp her arms, he forced her to look him in the eyes as he reaffirmed, "I never meant to take you that night." 

"And that makes it all better?" Her tone was uneven as her eyes began to water. Quickly he realized it was because she was suppressing tears. "You took what you had no right to take from me!"

"I did not take everything," he calmed his voice as he evened his stare. "You gave some, a lot in fact." He caught her wrist before her hand could come down across his cheek. Perhaps he deserved to be struck, but not because she insisted upon only looking at the most disgraceful moment of his actions. "You enjoyed, perhaps not all of what we shared, but enough of it. I know I did not imagine your whimpering beneath me, or crying my name in pleasure." She fought against his hold, clearly wanting to complete her assault, but she was not going to, not until she remembered. "It was not all bad." He used the back of his free hand to cautiously caress her face. He expected her to flinch away, but she did not, her eyes merely followed the path of his hand. 

"You did not give me a choice," she switched her gaze from his hand to his eyes. "You took advantage of me." She placed her palm over his and threw the entire limb away. "Do not think you will ever have such luxury again." She turned to leave, but he could not let her, not until she understood. 

"I did not lie about everything I told you that night." He stopped so close behind her that if he were to take a deep breath, his chest would have brushed against her back. "I needed you that night, not your body, but your essence. You trusted me, I dare say even cared about me then. You were the only woman who was not afraid of me. When you walked into my chambers that night, in your angelic gown, barefoot with your hair flowing wildly down your shoulders, just as you are tonight, you looked so innocent, so pure. I had to have it, I had to have you." He was rambling, surely she could not understand his feelings that night, hell, he barely could, but he had to try. "For the longest time I never understood what had made me so irrational, made me act so cowardly, but seeing you again, I can feel it." He did not know how to describe the pull, the urge to touch her, to lay her on his bed and show her how gentle a man could be, how undemanding, how selfless he had the ability to be with her, but he did not trust himself to do so. He had lost control once; he could so easily do it again. "Something draws me to you, Bulma. I failed to resist it that night, and damn it, I apologized for hurting you but," her head turned ever so slightly. She was either terribly interested in what he is saying, or she wanted to see a glimmer of his expression to assess whether he is being honest or not, perhaps both. "But I cannot regret laying with you." 

His comment lingered in the air for what seemed like hours, her face turning back away from his as she looked downward, no doubt unsure of how to reply. But that would not stop her from dropping the most simplistic, yet encumbered responses he could have anticipated. "Well, then, that makes one of us." She turned back to face him, her eyes a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow, the latter of which seemed to be winning out as she looked past him, her mind clearly drifting to another place. "Do you know what I have always regretted most about that night?" The question was clearly rhetorical, so he did not reply. "I regret that I betrayed your brother." Her hand found its way to her heart as she swallowed a lump in her throat. 

"For as much as I hate what you did, I can never forgive myself for—" She paused, a ridiculous smile forming on her lips as her train of thought suddenly changed. "Did you know I had a crush on you then?" she did not allow him enough time to respond, not that he would have been able to; he had thought her interests were always occupied by his brother. Of course, this did help to explain why she had been so willing at first, it was not simply his expert skills in taming the opposite sex as he had originally assumed. "It was a youthful sentiment, of course. Naïve little girls are frequently drawn to the darkness in a man, and you had that in spades, but not Kakarrot. He was the good one, the sweet one, my best friend, but I knew he wanted more." Her hand rose to wipe a few stray tears from her eyes; he suddenly realized where she was going with this remembrance. "I should have never gone to you, I should have never agreed to anything that night, but I did, because I was selfish and curious and I never once considered what it would do to him if he found out that I had done _anything_ with his own brother." 

The disgust in her voice bruised the Saiya-jin's typically impenetrable ego, but he bore the force of it. If she needed to vent what he was sure she had pent up for years, he would not interrupt her. "The first time he asked me to marry him was barely a year later. Did he ever tell you that? He finally found the courage to admit what I already knew, what I had chosen to ignore. I turned him down then, because I was too afraid. I broke his heart because I was too afraid of our wedding night, of the moment he found out that while he had waited for me, I had not been so faithful." Vegeta opened his mouth to object, but she did not allow him the chance, "No, do not tell me I can placed all the blame on you, because I cannot. You said it yourself, you did not take _everything_. I should have never been in your room that night, I should have never agreed to let you touch me, taste me, lay with me as you had. I know I was young, and foolish, but my body was not, it responded to yours in a way I have never experience with Kakarrot. And I was too ashamed to tell him."

Her tears came on too strong this time, dropping her face into her palms her body convulsed. Gods, what had he done to her? He had taken an innocent and made her feel a wanton. He had to dissuade her, he had to set her frame of mind right, but she again silenced him. It seemed she wanted him to hear her out completely; perhaps she simply needed to liberate her conscience to someone. After all, whom else could she tell? "When he asked again, just a few short months ago, I could not say no, but ironically it was for the same reason as I had turned him down the first time, I was selfish. I wanted him as my husband, and I was willing to damn the consequences, the pain he would inevitably face when he learned the truth. I never told him…" Her breathing hitched, she should not have tried to speak again. She finally found herself unable to offer anymore. 

He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her as he had once she learned of her love's death. But again, he could not; he was the enemy, the one who ruined her life, who took from her what she had destined for another, his own brother. He had realized quickly over the years that she had never spoken to his sibling of what happened between them, the fact that he was still alive a testament to that very truth. But he had not assumed her silence was for the reasons she claimed, a less passionate and more needy coupling that she had designed for the remainder of her life. How terribly monotonous. "I seduced you, Bulma. There was a mutual lust between us, and I took advantage of it. You have no reason to scold yourself as you are doing." 

"Do you not get it? That is exactly my point!" She spun away from him and began pacing back and forth to try and clear her thoughts. It did not seem to help. "That lust should not have been there! I should have only wanted Kakarrot, it was wrong of me to—"

"To desire me?" he snapped argumentatively, "Why? You were not married to my brother at the time, not engaged; as far as I am aware, he was not even courting you then. You are acting like an adulterous wife when you are in truth far from it. You were an innocent that I led astray. Let us not start confusing the facts of that evening." She needed to be spoken bluntly to or else she would continue to wallow in this improper sense of self-loathing. "I told you a pack of lies to get you into my bed," he grasped her shoulders, stopping her pacing so there could be no doubt she heard him clearly. "_I_ was in the wrong, Bulma, not you."

Perhaps he had been too blunt, because she began weeping again, her face falling into her hands once more as she shook her head in disagreement. "I responded to you, I moved with you. You may not have given me a choice in taking me, but I had a choice in fighting you and I did not, I just let you have me." She never once lifted her head as she spoke; it was probably for the best since he would not have been able to face her if she did. "You humiliated me and that was worse than any violation."

So that had been it, all these years he had believed her tears after they completed there coupling had been because of what he had taken from her, but instead what had shaken her foundation was what he had given to her, knowledge. He proved she was just as vulnerable to carnal pleasures of the flesh as any other being, and the fact that she felt such things for him, the embodiment of everything she knew was evil and impure in the world, the complete opposite of the man she truly wanted, his precious brother, she had felt disgraced. "If that is true, than I suffered the greater humiliation that night, because I lost all control when I laid with you; I felt things for a woman I had never felt before." 

"Do not lie to me, again!" she spat venomously as she swung away from him, her distress giving way to anger. 

"I am not lying, damn it! I asked you to marry me, did I not? I intended to do right by you, but you never allotted me the opportunity." Rightfully so, of course, but a fact was still a fact. He would have married her the next day if she had agreed to it. 

"Obligation and desire are two completely different sentiments, Vegeta. Wedlock for the two of us five years ago would have been misery. I thank the gods every day that I had enough sense to leave you and never look back."

"And what about now?" he took a step closer to her, wanting to know her true feelings now that she had wed him, now that there was no turning back. "Will our marriage now be misery?"

She carefully lifted her eyes to lock with his, and after what felt like hours of thought, she responded somberly, "I always wanted to marry a man I loved, a man who loved me. I wanted trust from my companion in life, affection, respect and happiness. I do not foresee any of that with you, only loneliness, regret and bitterness. However, we can do little about it other than to try and cohabitate with some sort of tranquility. I am your wife in name only, so I see no reason we need to encounter one another more than a few times a year, perhaps it will not be too terrible." 

He wanted to laugh. What a resounding vote of approval! So that is why she agreed without a vigorous fight. She believed their union would be completely effortless in nature, a few appearances together, some mild banter, and then solitude for the remainder of their separate lives. He should have been pleased, her expectations were low, and therefore marital tribulations should be few in number. But his mind seemed unable to move past her disappointment, her desire for genuine companionship and love in wedlock. Perhaps he was unable to offer the latter, but even he in his most bleak hours found himself in want of company, of a confidant whom he could trust, respect, and yes, even find some common fondness with. But with Bulma? Could such closeness ever develop between them? He estimated the odds were against them, but he could not help but wonder about that small chance. "Why were you willing to simply take my word the evening I advised you of our need to marry? I would have signed any document with any stipulations you chose. You believe that, do you not?" 

He had hoped her refusal was not out of mistrust of his sincerity, but after their previous encounter, he could not be too optimistic. "I believed your word." A simple yet highly complex assessment she minimized with a slight shrug. "You are different now, I saw it in your eyes at dinner that night and I see it again now." For the first time since he had encountered her after these long five years, her features softened, finally looking upon him without distress, disappointment, trepidation or sorrow. She simply looked at him. "Kakarrot adamantly insisted that you changed in recent years, for obvious reasons I chose to reject his assessment, but I see now that I was wrong to." For a moment her hand reached up, as if she wished to touch his face, but instead she snapped it back before allowing herself the chance. "Your eyes are not numb anymore. When you lied to me, there was never any emotion behind them, but now… Now I can see." 

Though it irked him that he was no longer as expert in hiding his emotions as he had been in years past, he felt some comfort in knowing that she felt more confident in reading his true intentions. Such a skill would go a long way in learning to trust one another. "You had better be careful, my lady. I may just start to think you are on the verge of forgiving me." 

All the softness that had adorned her face suddenly disappeared, and a soured frown lowered upon her lips, "Do not mistake my attempted cordiality as some sort of budding friendship between the two of us. Out of respect for your brother and the millions who would be affected by a war between our peoples, I am trying to find some level of reconciliation by being honest with one another. The sooner we can put the past behind us, the easier it will be to handle seeing each other." 

A cold bucket of water dumped on his head could not have been more startling. "I see," it was all he could gasp out. At least he would not have any misconceptions about their feelings towards one another. "It is late; I will escort you back to your chambers." Splitting her lips, for a moment he thought she would object to his accompanying her, but she clamped them shut after he preempted her disagreement with a warning glare.

Gliding his hand down the center of her back, he flatted his palm over the base her spine as he directed her out of the room. "I know the way to my chambers," she quickened her step to pull away from his touch. He should have been more conscious of his actions around her. 

"Of course you do," he followed several steps behind, unable to avoid transfixing his stare upon the womanly sway of her hips. She had aged so much in these last five years; the girl was now without a doubt a woman, a very fetching one at that. She should be thanking him that he was taking her off the marriage block without having to face a sea of improper suitors, suitors like himself. 

Almost walking into his guide, he found himself outside his wife's door, with Bulma ready to bid him a long overdue goodnight. "Well, I safely managed to cross the castle corridors, so if you do not mind—"

"Where is your ring?" He grasped her left hand as she had been casually flailing it in the air to direct him back to his chambers. "Why are you not wearing it?"

"It was too tight," she offered a clipped response as she pulled her hand back. "So I thought I would give my finger a chance to breath—hey, no, stop!" He had tuned her justification out after her pathetic excuse about it not fitting properly. He had the best jewelers brandish the ring; the chance of the manufacturing being faulty was very slim. 

Pushing open the door to her chambers, he had brushed past her demands for him to halt, determined to find what she had done with his token. He found so much more. "You did this?" His voice was menacing as he assessed the room. He would have thought the chamber had been thieved, except nothing was missing, everything was simply in disarray, including two objects that became the focus of his attention, her wedding dress and ring. Leaning down, he ran the tattered garment through his fingers and then slid his pinky finger into the ring before rising to his feet and slowly approaching her. Grabbing her left hand, he placed the ring back on her finger, ignoring her irate complaints that he was being too rough. "Never take this off again!"

He had half a mind to throw her over his shoulder and storm her back to his room to punish her for her disrespect in a most beneficial manner to him. But he had to control his temper, reminding himself that she was still grieving and obviously not altogether thinking clearly. "I will do whatever the hell I want to, and if that means taking that joke of a wedding band off while I am in the privacy of my own room, I will damn well do so!" she spat as she pulled her hand back, nursing it as if he had seriously injured her, "Now get the hell out." 

"Fine," he would allow her this small victory, but not without a word to the wise, "But allow me to give you fair warning, my lady. Just so there are no misconceptions between us, I vowed to respect your body and grant you liberties unlike most sane husbands would, but do not for one second think that I am giving you carte blanche to wreak havoc on my life. Throwing tantrums like this whenever you are feeling particularly sympathetic for yourself is unfucking acceptable! You are my wife, and I will have you respect me in both public and private; so unless you wish me to change my mind in regards to my demands of you as a wife, I would get over my bitterness fast, and accept our fate."

He then did as she asked, turning to leave, but not before hearing what was quickly becoming the final word on every one of their arguments. "I hate you." As always, he did not respond, and simply continued on his way, hearing the click of what was no doubt her wedding ring being pummeled at the door after he had closed it. 

Spinning around to rest the back of his head against the very same door, he closed his eyes, fully recognizing the omen, "This is going to be a long marriage." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How are you feeling?" The young female asked once she finished changing her patient's bandages. 

"Stronger," the gradually healing man slowly opened and clenched his fists, testing his building strength. "Thanks to you, Chi-Chi," he grasped her soft hand and pulled it to his lips, "You saved my life." 

The raven-haired woman blushed a dark crimson as she pulled her hand away, "My father saved you. He was the one who fished you out of the river. I merely have tended your wounds, which, if I may say, are finally beginning to heal nicely. You had us worried for some time." 

"Right," he nodded somberly, touching the swollen spots on around his head and then finally resting his palm over his chest, where he had taken what was presumed to be a serious sword injury. 

"You still remember nothing?" his female companion asked quietly, her sympathy greatly evident in her voice. 

Shaking his head, he sighed disappointedly, "No. All I know is what we have surmised. Judging by the crest on my broken armor, I was a member of the Vegetabatsu army. Since your father claims a massive battle with that legion took place the day before he found me, I must have fought in it, which explains how I ended up looking like hell, but not who I am." Frustration overpowering him, he rested his head gently in his palm. "Perhaps I was no one of importance. Perhaps that is why no one has come to look for me. I am sure many a foot soldier died that day, I was likely one more." 

"No, do not say such hopeless things!" Chi-Chi objected as she lifted his face to gaze into hers. "You must have someone out there missing you, or else why would you have been carrying this?" She leaned over to the nightstand, pulling out a dirtied lock of blue hair. Handing it to him, she pointed out, "My father said you were clinging to it with all the strength left in your body when he found you. If it was that important to you, then the woman who gave you that lock of hair must be someone missing you terribly." 

With a lopsided smile, he clasped the braid and allowed himself a moment to examine it. "I do not know, Chi. I just can't remember." He handed the strand back to her to place on the table. "Lying back in his bed, he closed his eyes as he tried to recall anything before he had awakened in the care of these kind villagers. But as with every other attempt, he came up blank, "Nothing, not even a damn name!"  

"Well, then we will simply have to give you one in the mean time." Chi-Chi always tried to look on the bright side, a characteristic her charge was beginning to find more and more endearing by the day. "Hmmm," she allowed herself a few moments to consider what would suit the man best. After a breath of time she clapped her hands together in excitement. "I've got it," her smile widened as she bobbed her head in satisfaction. "Until we learn your true name, how about we call you Goku? I have always loved that name and I think it would suit you well. What do you think?"

"Goku?" he repeated, the name sounding a little strange to him at first. Then after allowing it a moment to process through his mind, he nodded his head, a smile mimicking that of the woman who had suggested it, "Goku. Yes, I like it. I like it a lot."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


Author's Note: Ah, wow, a very LONG chapter with lots of developments. My very favorite! So, it would seem Kakarrot is not quite as dead as Vegeta and Bulma believe. What will that mean for our couple? Well, nothing immediate, because the next chapter picks up two years later and you will not believe what has happened in the interim! Until then—not two years, just the next chapter! 


	6. The Fourteenth Ring

Unwanted 

**__**

Chapter 6 – The Fourteenth Ring 

"Another ring, Sire?" Radditz frowned after receiving his orders to have a jeweler create a new wedding band for his queen, "This is the thirteenth replacement is it not?" 

"Fourteenth," Vegeta's scowl deepened, "You always forget the time she baked her seventh into my dessert to emphasize her sincerity in telling me to 'choke on it'."

Biting his bottom lip, the advisor tried to shield his humor, "Oh, yes, how could I forget that one?" Clearing his throat, he more optimistically offered, "Well, look on the bright side, sir. In your first year of marriage she desecrated nine rings, this year she only ruined five. I would say that is a marked improvement." 

"We still have a few days before our 'blissful' anniversary, give her time." He deadpanned the last three words. The woman had all but driven him mad these last two years. From the constant fighting and bickering to destruction of his property, he barely had time to deal with the war fast approaching. "What is the latest news of Nexus?" 

A much easier topic; warring he knew, but women, particularly the one he was wedded to, set him in a perpetual state of ignorance. "He's dropped out of sight. Last week he took off with a small band of comrades and has not been seen since, which leaves much room for concern that he is planning something." 

Vegeta had been anticipating an attempted coup by Nexus since the day he took Bulma as his bride. Nexus had dared to approach them, two weeks later, spewing venom. Most of his insults had been flung towards the new wife, calling her nothing short of a whore for marrying her deceased love's brother merely months after Kakarrot's death. 

He had been more than ready to throttle the man for such a show of disrespect, when Bulma managed to beat him to the punch, pulling Vegeta's sword from its sheath and turning it on the bastard. As nice as it had been for once to see her fiery temper set ablaze on someone other than himself, he prevented her from killing Nappa's cowardly spawn. Not that he had much faith she would have successfully completed the attack with four armed guards surrounding the coward, but no one was going to kill Nexus but himself. Kakarrot was his to avenge. 

The gauntlet had then been thrown down, Nexus vowing to reclaim his father's territory, regardless of the wrench both men knew Bulma's marriage put into Nexus' plans. He had left the palace halls with a word of warning that Vegeta had never experienced a night pass without hearing echo through his mind, _"You would be wise to keep your precious wife close by, Vegeta. We live in a world of dangerous men, and may the gods protect her if one of them should find benefit in having her eliminated."_

The blatant threat had haunted him with an acute sense of helplessness. Never had he imagined when agreeing to a chaste marriage that such an arrangement could leave him feeling powerless to protect her during the most bewitching hours in a day. Yes, he had posted guards outside her door every night, and eventually had her chambers, _very _much against her wishes, moved into an adjoining room to his, but it was never enough for his conscience. He was not lying beside her every night; he could not be sure a villain had not invaded her chambers and silently carried out Nexus' evils. Such unknowns had enticed him to go back on his word, forcing her to bear sleeping by his side every night if only for her own protection. But he had dared not take any more action to distress his miserable bride, tensions between them were already much too volatile. 

She had interpreted his refusal to allow her attack on Nexus as a sign of his disinterest in avenging his brother. That evening she had even gone so far as to insinuate that he was pleased by Kakarrot's death, when ironically that was the complete reciprocal of the truth. He would have given anything to see his brother brought back to life, if for no other reason than to take this she-devil of a wife off his hands. 

If the fates had teamed up together and spent hours conjuring the most sadistic way to punish him for his sins, they could not have formulated anything as wicked as life with Bulma. When they saw each other, which contrary to her anticipation, having been much more than a few times a year, they were doing one of two things: arguing or insulting. Whatever plan of truce that was to exist between them held no terms for petty quarrels or childish antics. 

He could not make a single suggestion without her disagreeing with him. Whether it regarded diplomatic matters or the dessert served with dinner, she refused to ever take his side in anything. She had to make their war one of attrition, and as much as it pained him to admit, he had lost. A little over a year after their marriage, he had surrendered, refusing to sink to her level any longer. If they could not speak civilly, then they would not speak at all. He began to ignore her, learning quickly to tune out her venomous pitch. To his pleasure, her fight quickly dissipated as well. The two learned how much more pleasant their marriage could be when they never breathed a word to one another, but it was a peaceful serenity that had only successfully lasted for five quiet months before he had to ruin it. 

It had been both fascinating and infuriating to arise from a sleepless night, in hopes of breaking his insomnia by a few hours of swordplay, to find his wife occupying his private training facility in the dead of night. The latter of the two emotions had won out when he crept up behind her, clamping one hand over her mouth and the other around her stomach. He had wanted to scare her, to show how foolish ducking her guards' watch had been, when anyone with any foul motive could have approached her, but his purpose had been quickly waylaid by his underestimated wife. 

Clearly not knowing he had been her attacker, or perhaps knowing all too well, she used the hilt of the sword she had been training with to slam it against his hipbone. The assault had caused him to lose his balance, and his lower arm to slacken just enough for her to bring a hard elbow against his chest. By that point his grip on her was all but lost as he limped away from her, only to look up when the tip of her blade lifted his chin. 

"Vegeta!?" She had acted surprised but he had a sneaking suspicion she knew all along, the sly smirk she could barely contain at the notion of besting him much too prominent on her face. "Are you alright?" 

He had been. In no time the sting of her assailing wore off and he felt the inappropriate urge to want a rematch. "Fine," he had growled as he walked over to the weapons table and claimed one of his favorite blades before rejoining her. "It is dangerous for you to be unescorted in the dead of night. What happened to your guards?"

"They are right outside the door," she had responded flatly. He was tempted to check to make certain she had not been lying to him but, in truth, it would have been a moot point considering if there were actually two guards stationed outside the door, they certainly did not help prevent anyone from getting to her. The idiots had not thought to cover the back door he had entered from. "Not that I need their help, clearly," she reminded with a satisfied smirk that heated his loins in a completely improper manner. 

"A few tricks will not save you from a well trained warrior," he had lifted his weapon to bat at hers, encouraging her to tighten her hold in preparation. "How long have you been coming down here to train?" Not only was he curious how long this deception had been kept from him, but also how advanced she may have become. He always wondered what her fury would look like behind the tip of a sword. 

"The month after I arrived, approximately; I was not going to allow my skill to wane just because of our unfortunate circumstances." A direct hit of course, she had grown very accustomed in her knowledge of which buttons to push to set him on edge, but he had been willing, almost savoring, to hear her sharp tongue snap viciously at him. As pleasant as the peace of their mutual silence had been in the preceding months, a part of him missed their verbal sparring matches. 

"So you have already been properly instructed?" He took several long strides to slowly circle around her as he eyed her unladylike appearance. Though she was dressed in fashion clearly designed to pattern a man's riding clothes, the fabric appeared to be of a much more flexible nature, seeing how flawlessly it clung to her body. With her long tresses pulled back in a loose braid, and her chemise cut in a pattern that left her arms completely exposed, he, for the first time, noticed the slight curve of her biceps. He realized then, there was much he had yet to learn about his fetching wife. 

"I have been _properly instructed_ since shortly after I learned to walk." She had twisted her head over her shoulder to watch carefully as he trailed his leisurely path, "First by my father, and then Kakarrot." It had been the first time he had heard her speak of his dead brother without flinching, he had supposed that should have pleased him, but somehow it did not. 

"Then you must be in want of a new instructor," he had insisted after stopping before her. Resting the tip of his blade at her ankle, he slowly traced it up the hourglass curve of her body before steadying it next to her cheek. "Let us see whether you are worth my time or not."

She must have been outraged by the arrogance of his indirect offer, because she attacked him with an intensity that made him wonder if she was genuinely hoping to run her sword through him. Fortunately that had not been the case. She was good, her techniques an intriguing blend of Toma's and Kakarrot's, but in the end, she simply did not have the vast experience he did with swordplay. 

Once her breathing began to hint at exhaustion, he ended their skirmish, slyly knocking the blade from her hand, allowing her the chance to finally collapse from fatigue. "Not bad," he could not help the taunt in between a few raspy breaths of his own as he returned the weapons to the altar. When he returned to her side, he had taken an unceremonious seat beside her, allowing himself a moment's rest while his partner caught her breath. "I think, my lady, you may have overexerted yourself." It had been an unconscious move, reaching out to clear the sweaty strand of her hair from her flushed face. Never had he anticipated the daze she would flood over him as her bottomless blue eyes snapped towards his, surprised by his gesture. 

For some time he remembered staring at her, his hand not moving to release the cheek he had softly circled, and then something shocking had happened. Her eyes slid shut, and she gently pulled his hand from her cheek to her lips, placing a gentle kiss in the center of his palm. "Will you take on a humble student under your expert tutelage, Sire?" The little minx, he had quickly decided then, was toying with him. Properly addressing him was a dead giveaway, along with the almost seductive glance she spared him as her eyes opened to lock with his. He would have given up his title at that very moment if it had prevented his body from reacting to her. 

"I am not a man to be trifled with," his warning seemed a joke, even before she pulled away from him to release a boisterous laugh. He felt damn tempted to grasp her, pulling her body flush against his, invading her mouth with a tender assault of his tongue that would leave her in a similar state as he, but he did not, instead he rose to his feet and headed for the door. 

"Vegeta! Vegeta, come on, I was just kidding," she had called after him as if that was supposed to soothe his ego. When she finally stopped him before exiting the chamber, he felt the need to either throttle her or throw her on the ground and mate with her until daybreak. Irritated that neither was an option, he had allowed her to speak. 

"I am sorry I insulted you," there was not a hint of mockery in her claim, but he would not fully understand why until she confessed, "it—it's just my only defense against your being nice to me." Defense! As if she needed protection from his kindness, the little backwards chit. "In all honesty, I would not mind a training partner. If you were genuine in your offer, I would very much like to take you up on it." 

Every fiber of his being told him to say no, to storm out on her, leaving her looking the fool, but he had not. Her damn eyes had trapped him, and before he knew it, he had a rendezvous scheduled every night at eleven. He should have been pleased. It was a step forward, they were finally moving closer to—dare he consider—her actually not hating him. 

The only drawback, however, was while her dislike for him seemed to decrease, his sexual frustration amplified tenfold. Watching her body move so agilely made him wonder how creative they could be as lovers. Every time he saw her skin glisten with sweat, he imagined her under him, her legs spread wide, welcoming his intrusion for once. Even the moans, the grunts and growls as she fought him had damn near turned him into a rutting teenager. And if that all was not enough, she acted as though she failed to realize his state of perpetual arousal. 

How maddening, that his own damn wife drove him to such states of lust and he could not in the least satisfy them with her, not that he had not tried. To his chagrin, he found himself dropping innuendoes, hoping one may tempt her fancy, but none ever did. She seemed entrenched in her refusal to couple with him. Not that he had any right to try to solicit her, but he was a man, one with painfully neglected needs. Not, again, that he could blame her for that. 

So, instead he had been living in a mind numbing state of frustration for the past few months, simply accepting his fate of being bound to a woman he could never touch, regardless of how desperately he wanted to. "Double Bulma's guards, I do not want to give Nexus a chance to surprise us." If he was not privileged enough to lay his hands on her, then he was going to make damn sure no one else did. 

"Consider it done," Radditz rose from his seat, promising to keep Vegeta alerted of any further developments. Once Vegeta found himself alone, he reached across the table to pour himself a full glass of his favorite alcohol. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, hoping to ease some of his tensions away. Little could he have realized that the embodiment of all his troubles had been about to prevent his serenity. 

"Sorry to interrupt." His wife did not sound the least bit sincere as she allowed herself access to his room. Pushing aside his legs he had comfortably propped up on his desk, she then lifted herself up to sit in their place. 

"What do you want?" He wanted to sound indignant, but watching her cross her legs as she leaned back just enough to rest her palms flat atop the edge of the table behind her, he could barely prevent himself from releasing a seductive purr. The figure-fitting riding suit and complimenting midnight blue, ankle length jacket she sported left much to the imagination, keeping his mind occupied for a good few minutes before his lack of attention became embarrassingly apparent. 

"Are you listening to me?!" The sound of Bulma's hand repetitively slapping the edge of the table jolted him to attention. "I asked if you would be so kind as to escort me on a ride. My horse needs exercise." 

"Don't you have a personal attaché to attend to such things?" It was not truly a question, for he already knew the answer, but he had hoped the reminder would extricate her from his room, and his thoughts. It did neither. 

"Yes, but Codo fell terribly ill this morning. And all of my personal palace guards are taking their daily respite for the next hour. I even tried asking Radditz after I saw him coming out of your office, but he told me you have given him a debt of work. So, I am afraid my options are limited." She puffed out her lips in an almost childish manner. He would have insulted her for her immaturity if the expression had not been so damn sexy. 

"I'm busy. Wait until one of your guards returns from his break." Aside from having no particular inclination to ride at this moment, he had no intention of walking the palace halls towards the stables with a growing erection straining his pants. 

"Ah!" With an exasperated sigh, she pushed herself off of his desk, the childlike appearance she faked moments ago, suddenly gone. "You treat me like a prisoner around here!" she nearly screamed as she began a short pace in front of him. "I am not allowed anywhere without an escort. I have to log in my itinerary every day after I awaken. I can do nothing in private around here, not even take my horse for a ride around the perimeter. You give me no freedoms!"  

"It is for your own protection," Vegeta answered in reflex. How many times must they have this argument before it finally sinks in? "Once Nexus is no longer a threat, you will have the _freedom_ to do anything or go anywhere that you please. In fact, should you choose to disappear indefinitely, I will not execute the least bit of effort to look for you." 

For a moment, granted, it was the briefest of moments, he thought she looked wounded by his statement; but whatever he saw, or thought he saw, disappeared as the demon he had become intimately familiar with quickly reemerged. "A blissful future to look forward to, no doubt, but it does little for my current state of misery. I am suffocating in this castle and if I am not allowed some air immediately, so help me—"

"Let us not be melodramatic," Vegeta lifted his hand to silence her woes. "I am sure you have the willpower to bear suffering for another hour before an escort may become available to you. Now, I have more trying issues to deal with than that of a temperamental woman, so if you would show yourself out." He pointed to the door, and to his surprise she actually turned on her heel and exited without further argument. 

He should have known then. Two years he had lived with her and never once did she leave without claiming the final word. Her silence had been as overt as screaming an imminent defiance. But he had ignored her that afternoon, and as he would come to discover a few short hours later, his developing obsession to banish her from his sight, his mind, and his body, could very well cost him her life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Until next time… 


	7. Lost and Found

Unwanted 

**__**

Chapter 7 – Lost and Found 

"What do you mean, you can not find her?" Vegeta gnashed his teeth as he slammed his fist atop his desk. 

"It would appear that she had taken the liberty of a private ride just over an hour ago, but has not returned since," Radditz opted to be the one to deliver the news, clearly hoping to handle the situation better than that of Bulma's four frightened guards taking shade behind their designated speaker. 

"Then what are you all doing here? Get out there and bring her back in one piece so that I may throttle her for disobeying me!" Damn that woman! If he were not so angry with himself for not anticipating this insurrection, he very possibly would have been cursing her to the depths of hell. 

"I am afraid that is not all, sir," Radditz cleared his throat, before bluntly confessing, "your wife's mount came back just half an hour ago, without her." 

It was truly bizarre the emotions that proceeded to engulf Vegeta as his mind slowly filtered the news. For the first time since his marriage, the thought of life without Bulma pierced him more sharply than a sword through his chest. For as much as they argued, bickered, and insulted, never once had he desired to see any harm come to her. He wanted to keep her safe, he had vowed to, and he truly believed he could keep that promise. However, it seemed he had been wrong. 

_He_ had done this. She had come to him, asking him to accompany her. He was in the middle of nothing pressing, he could have gone, but he did not. He refused because he was afraid, afraid of her seeing, of her knowing how he desired her. He did not want to allow her knowledge of the power she held over his body, and over his thoughts. And now it may have cost him her permanent absence. She could be lying dead somewhere, injured in a riding accident, or worse, someone might have harmed her, abducted her, and it would be completely his fault. 

"I want every available man searching the perimeter of this castle," Vegeta began belting out orders. It was what he knew best, what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. "Post a reward for any knowledge that will lead us to her. I want her found immediately, is that clear!?" 

"Yes, Sire," five voices echoed, followed by the four guards departing immediately to begin the search. Radditz however lingered behind, wanting to bring a possible oversight to Vegeta's attention. "This could be Nexus' doing," he suggested carefully after closing the exit behind the guards. "Bulma is an expert rider; I am not in the least persuaded to believe she had an accident."

The thought had crossed Vegeta's mind as well; this was simply too much of a coincidence to believe that the first time she took off on her own, she had an accident. Nexus' recent disappearance did not squelch his suspicions either, "A consideration, but a highly irrational one. Why would Nexus abduct or hurt her? It would only unleash a war upon him that we all know he has little hope of winning."

"Assuming the Tomabatsu fights by your side," Radditz reminded wisely. 

"Why the hell would they not!?" Vegeta demanded. "I am their rightful King. Bulma was Toma's only heir; therefore, their allegiance lies with her and her husband, _me._"

"Yes, and that is exactly what concerns me, sir.  If Nexus is in fact behind your wife's disappearance, then I must wonder just what he has up his sleeve. The man has lain low for two years; it would make no sense for him to emerge now, take your wife, and ensure war unless he had something that could ensure his victory."

Radditz was of course right. Nexus was not like his father, he put more thought into his battles than basic military strategy. He assessed all the angles, only choosing the ones that would bring him a swift, undisputed victory. Vegeta shuddered to think what strategy he had concocted using his wife. "Have my horse readied. I want you to gather a team of your best elites." He was not going to be bested by Nexus, and certainly not at the expense of Bulma. He had vowed to protect her, and damn it, he would not fail her again.  

"We go hunting for Nexus." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Rise and shine, my lovely queen," Bulma heard an eerie voice as she felt her cheek being stroked. Twisting her head, she slowly opened her eyes to a fate more horrifying than her most graphic nightmares. 

"Nexus!" she scrambled backwards until she felt her body hit a wall, a carriage wall, "What the hell?" She quickly scanned her surroundings, trying to make sense of how she had come to be here. It had to be a dream! She had an argument with Vegeta. He refused to escort her, so she had taken it upon herself to ride alone, if for no other reason than to spite him. But then, when she reached the edge of the Vegetabatsu territory, something—something happened. 

"Such language for a woman of your status," a scathing voice mocked her playfully. Nexus, the fiend who had killed her fiancé, was sitting before her. He had not changed much in the past two years. The burly man still had the toned physique of his father, but his facial features were not nearly as ridged, clearly a reflection of his mother. His jet-black hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, his dark eyes boring into hers as he spoke, "Our first time alone, long overdue, don't you think?" 

"Not long enough, you bastard!" Like a crazed feline, she pounced on him, clawing, punching, kicking, anything she could do to inflict damage upon his person. A futile assault against a man as strong as he, but she could not help the urge to want to kill the man. He and his father had taken so much from her, she wanted revenge desperately. 

"Now, now, my lady," Nexus managed to grab hold of her wrists and twist them behind her back. Using one hand to lock them together, he extended his free arm to slither around her waist, pulling her to sit on his lap, her back pressed against his firm chest. "I would prefer not to hurt you. You are more valuable to me in one piece, but if you push me, I might be willing to let you depreciate." 

She squinted her eyes and bit her bottom lip, willing herself to hide her pain as Nexus proved his point. "Of what value am I to you?" she forced out the question, hoping if she could distract him he would loosen his hold; he did. 

"It's quite simple, actually," she felt his hand slide upwards from her stomach to rest flatly, threatening, on her collarbone. Yes, that was it! Now she remembered. She had halted her ride after seeing what she had thought at the time was an injured man lying on the side of the path. Then, after she had dismounted her horse to see if she could help him, a hand had come across her throat. He had to have been planning her abduction for some time to see it played out so easily. "You have always been the final piece to my puzzle, Bulma. Had you just married me two years ago we could have avoided all this, but you had to be difficult—"

"Difficult!" she interrupted, struggling against him to reinforce her outrage. "You killed the man I loved! Your father murdered mine while you stood and watched! What in the name of the gods made you think I would ever find you anything but repulsive?"

"Well, clearly it would not have been a love match," the large man chuckled, pressing his hand a little tighter against her petite body to subdue her resistance. "But I had, let's say, _enticed_ your mother into an arrangement between our peoples, one that would ensure the destruction of the Vegetabatsu. All that needed to be done to solidify the agreement was for you to wed me. Our alliance would have been complete, and you, my fair queen, could have been ruling the whole planet by my side. But no, instead you chose Vegeta—" his momentum suddenly broke for a crass chuckle, "Vegeta! A choice that quickly proved to me you were either insane or being manipulated. So, regardless of which affliction you suffer from, here I am to humbly rescue you." 

Her arms were unexpectedly released and she found herself on the opposite side of the carriage, looking thoroughly perplexed as he pulled out a quill and a document from his coat pocket, "For you, my lady." He handed both to her. The thought of trying to ram the quill into his black heart sounded terribly appealing, but she could not help her curiosity. 

"What is it?" She refused to make any move to unfold the parchment until she knew what was inside. 

"A gift from your husband," he had the most wicked of smirks upon his face. Being joined with Vegeta, she was used to the expression, but with Nexus, she felt no similar sense of security as she had with Vegeta. 

_Vegeta._

Was he looking for her? He said he would not, but that was only after the war was over. He still needed her now, so no doubt he was concerned. Not that it mattered of course. What did she care if he was concerned about her? His opinion, his feelings meant nothing to her. Lifting the top of the document up, she was finally made privy to the writ before her. "It can not be," she continued to scan through the papers, "these are annulment papers." 

"And your dear husband has already signed them, convenient, ne?" 

"This is a forgery!" Bulma insisted, regardless of how much the signature resembled his. How could it be anything else but a fake? Vegeta would never sign annulment papers and then deliver them to Nexus.

"No, my dear, I am afraid it is not. You see, I have had an associate working behind enemy lines these last few years trying to find me anything that could right the mess you made in marrying Vegeta. And just a few weeks ago, he finally made the stiff fee I was paying him worth it. First, in finding me this marvelous document in Vegeta's chambers, and then today, making certain you would be riding alone this afternoon." 

"Codo," Bulma whispered breathlessly. Of course, he had never once in her employ fallen sick; it could not have been a coincidence. 

"The very one," Nexus nodded proudly, "You are sharp." 

"This is ridiculous. Why would Vegeta have such papers scribed?" She threw them back to Nexus; she wanted nothing to do with his twisted scheme. 

"Actually, I was hoping you could answer that, my lady." She could not, at least not for certain. Though she had her suspicions they may have been an anticipatory measure to implement after Nexus was finally defeated and their marriage no longer served any purpose. She was not certain why, but the thought stung. 

"What does this all mean?" She narrowed her brows, having no interest in sharing her private thoughts with her captor. She wanted to know exactly what he was planning. "If you think I will simply sign these documents, ending my marriage to Vegeta, and then turn around and marry you—" 

"That is not what I _think_; it is exactly what is going to happen. You _will _sign these documents, you _will _vow to become my wife, then I_ will_ have my war, and the Vegetabatsu _will_ finally fall." 

The sound of horse hoofs were all that could be heard for some time as the pair stared at one another. And then finally, Bulma spoke up, her disagreement simple but resolute, "I will neither sign those documents nor marry you, and nothing you can do will convince me otherwise." 

He laughed at her, laughed at her! Did he think her a joke? Because she was not joking, far from it. She would die before allowing millions of innocents to be sacrificed on the altar of this man's egocentric pursuit of planetary domination. "You do not have a choice, my dear," he paused his chuckling to explain, "we have already been well on route to my territory for some time. It shall only be a matter of time before we arrive to a private reception in which you will either vow to become my wife or—hm—well there actually is no 'or.' So resign yourself to the fate, my dear." He lifted the papers to her once more. "Sign," he insisted, handing her the quill. 

For a split second she recoiled, as if preparing to attack him, and then abruptly her entire body relaxed. Releasing an exhausted sigh, she submissively lifted her arms to clasp the quill and the document. "Clearly, I have no choice," she sat back from him securely, and waited until he eased back on his side of the carriage before she dropped the quill and clasped the annulment with both hands. She managed to rip the document into four ridged pieces before Nexus reacted violently, restraining her with the weight of his body as he tried to salvage the document. 

"Bitch!" he hissed while winding his fingers around her slender throat. She was no longer any use to him now that he could not dissolve her marriage. 

"You have to let me go," she boasted while grabbing at his massive hand, trying to pry it from her throbbing neck. "If you harm me now, you will ignite war against the Vegetabatsu and Tomabatsu, and you _will_ lose." The backside of his calloused hand came down across her left cheek, knocking the wind out of her as she fell ungracefully against the cushion of the back carriage seat. 

"This can be repaired," she heard him claim as he fumbled with the torn parchment. "And you," he bruised her right arm with his blood-stopping grasp as he hauled her upright, "will not try anything so foolish again, because make no mistake, my lady, I will beat your fiery nature out of you until all that is left is a meek shell of a woma—" His threat was promptly jolted as the carriage suddenly grinded to a screeching halt. "What the hell is going on?" Nexus' attentions were temporarily stolen as he yelled to the coachman.  

"Nothing to worry about sir, there is just a drunken man blocking the trail. We will deal with it swiftly." 

"See to that," Nexus turned back to Bulma, offering a false apology for the interruption, "Yes, now where were we? Oh yes, I was lecturing you on the dangers of having too much spir—" Nexus found himself interrupted again, except this time it was the sound from his coachman screaming. Sounds of a scuffle then followed. It seemed the 'drunk' who had crossed their path was causing more trouble than had been anticipated. More footsteps and screaming could be heard, and Bulma surmised that the carriage she had heard following behind them had unloaded and charged at whatever was causing them such problems. 

"Sounds like you have the situation well in hand," she could not help her sarcastic tone. 

"Stay here and shut up," she found herself being thrust against the sidewall of the carriage again as her abductor jumped out his side of the coach to assess what was going on. He had to be some degree of halfwit if he truly believed she was not going to use this opportunity to escape. 

Pulling out the hairpin that had already been on the verge of falling out after all of Nexus' manhandling, she jimmied open the lock he had falsely hoped would keep her caged. Pushing open the door, she, as quietly as possible, jumped to the ground. Intending to make a run into the covering of the surrounding woodlands, she found herself stalled by the sound of Nexus' voice. 

"Ah, a brilliant plan. Pretend to be a lost drunk and then catch my men off guard with your completely sober fighting tactics. Not bad, but I am afraid you have no hope against me. I am the best swordsman on the planet." 

She wanted to spit, hearing his boasting, but to her pleasure the man, or at least she assumed her rescuer to be a man judging by his stature, did not move. In fact he did nothing but stand completely still, a blade in his hand, his body and face completely shielded by a long brown cloak. He said nothing as he lifted his sword towards Nexus, jerking the blade slightly towards himself, a clear invitation for his opponent to advance. 

He did. 

Bulma knew she should take her chance and run, but her eyes were completely entranced by the battle. Something about the hooded man's movements, his technique seemed eerily familiar. No, it did not matter. She had to get away; this may be her only chance. Tiptoeing back to the second carriage, while her captors were either distracted with battle or unconscious, she managed to steal one of the spare swords for protection, before she took off for the woods. 

She ran, and ran, and ran until she felt the wind completely knocked out of her. She did not know where she was, but it did not particularly matter to her. She simply had to get far enough away so that Nexus could not find her, and with any luck, she would stumble upon a village where she could barter the fine blade she had stolen for a horse and directions back to her home. Home, she could not help the irrational curiosity to know if Vegeta was concerned for her, missing her, or hell, if he even cared she was gone. Not that it mattered, of course. She knew she was just a means to prevent, perhaps now instigate, a war with his enemy. It should not bother her how he felt. She certainly did not care. 

Collapsing on a tree stump, Bulma found herself at the end of the uncharted path she had taken. She was atop a small cliff that overlooked a beautiful waterfall, one that tempted her to dive in, washing away the stench of Nexus, but she resisted. She had to find a way back to her home before Nexus found his way to her. Not a few moments later, she brusquely believed she was too late. 

"Ah!" she screamed in alarm after feeling a hand touch her shoulder. Jumping to her feet, she turned around, lifting her sword, preparing to defend herself when she realized it was not her abductor who found her, "It's you." She did not know who 'you' was specifically; he was simply the man who had allowed her a chance of escape from Nexus. So why had he followed her? Was he a mercenary? Had Vegeta offered a small fortune to have her brought back? Was it money this man was after, or was it something more sinister? Perhaps he intended to pick up right where Nexus had left off, abducting her for his own cruel purposes. She had no intentions of finding out. 

"Stay back," she warned while taking a few steps away from him, keeping her sword poised for anything. He lifted his gloved hands, as if to prove to her that his intentions were not of a violent nature. She wanted to believe so. "Who are you?" she demanded; when he did not respond, she asked a second time, but he seemed no more inclined to answer, instead he took a step forward, a move that sent her a step back, a step too far. 

"Bulma!" A male voice, one she had not heard in over two years called after her as she fell into the freezing depths. She could not breath, she could not see, all she did was feel the cold until two familiar arms wrapped around her body, pulling her to the surface. Gradually, she felt herself being lifted out of the water until finally she was laid out on the soft sand of the shoreline. "Bulma," she heard the concerned voice again. 

"Kakarrot," she whispered thoughtlessly before her eyes slowly opened and absorbed the sight of her now twice savior. "It can not be," her hand glided up to circle his damp cheek, "You're alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Hmm… Sounds like things are about to get messy. Next chapter in a few… 


	8. Kakarrot’s Return

_**Unwanted**_

**__**

Chapter 8 – Kakarrot's Return

"You're alive—or else, I'm dead," Bulma found herself unconcerned with which reality it was, she was simply too enthralled by the sight of the man before her. "Oh, by the gods, it really _is_ you, Kakarrot!" she threw her arms around him, pressing his equally wet body against hers. "I can not believe this," she felt warm tears streaming down her cheeks as she twisted her head, kissing every inch of his handsome face before pressing her lips to his, "How I have missed you," the desperation in her affections was clear proof of her declaration.

"I know how you feel." The awkwardness of his embrace was lost on Bulma, as she was too absorbed in the miracle standing before her. All that mattered was that by some twist of fate a man she loved had returned to her.

"Where have you been?" Bulma pulled away just long enough to look into his eyes. Circling his face in her palms, she barraged him with a series of questions, "How did you survive? Why did you not come to me sooner? Where have you been? Are you well? Have you—"

He smiled halfheartedly as he pulled her hands from his face and encaged them between his. Rubbing them together, he attempted to warm her frozen fingers. "I would not know where to begin, but this is not the place. We need to find shelter and get out of these wet clothes."

Nodding her consent to allow him a short reprieve from his explanation, she decided it would be best to find someplace warmer to have this discussion. Allowing him to help her rise to her feet, she watched as he whistled for his horse. Once the beast descended upon them, he took the cloak he had been earlier using to shield his face and wrapped it around her before helping her onto her mount. "I know of a place not far from here we may easily remain undetected while we have a chance to," he hesitated, searching for the right words, "get caught up."

Wrapping her arms securely around his waist, Bulma nodded a quick agreement. Time alone with him sounded like a godsend after her horrible afternoon with Nexus. And then who knows? She had been waiting all her life for this miracle. Everyone could now have what he or she wanted. She and Kakarrot could be together, and thanks to Nexus' failed abduction attempt, he and Vegeta could now have their war, and she would no longer have to live her life as a pawn—Vegeta! By the gods, she had almost forgotten of him!

Should she insist Kakarrot send word immediately of her safety, of his existence? By the gods, Vegeta's brother was still alive and he had no idea. She had to return home to tell him, but would he care? Yes, he would care, because this was perhaps more of a dream come true for him than it was for her. Kakarrot's existence meant that now Vegeta could have his annulment and become a libertine again, plus still have his war with the Tomabatsu fighting by his side. He would finally have his victory.

No, she had no reason to hurry her notification. Vegeta was about to be set free of an unwanted marriage and still get his glorious battle. He could wait while she had what would be no doubt be her only chance at a private moment with Kakarrot. After his reappearance is made known, his time would no doubt be fully occupied. And Vegeta—well, he probably was already making war plans, her disappearance only important for his feud with Nexus.

Ah! What did she care anyway? Her love had come back to her; she should be completely and utterly focused on him. Why did she care about Vegeta's indifference towards her!? He was no longer a concern of hers. Soon their marriage would be annulled and she could be with the man she had always wanted. She should be happy, but instead she felt hollow inside; and all the personal reflection would never allow her to admit why.

* * *

"Bulma!" Vegeta called for his wife as he looked through the abandoned carriage that had been surrounded by five dead bodies, all men wearing the crest of the Nexusbatsu.

"It seems someone has beaten us to the Queen's rescue," Radditz decided as he began examining the tracks the group had left behind. Radditz had been known for his expertise in tracking. He once followed a legion of Nappabatsu, whom had a six-day head start, half across the planet just to get back a favorite sword that had been stolen from him in battle. He had not only retrieved his sword, but led his crew to an uncharted stronghold that had been a crucial marker in leading to Nappa's defeat. It was a trek that had earned him the respect of his king, and the honorable titles of elite and general he held to this day. "Here," he pointed to two thin lines that were no doubt indentations left by carriage wheels. "There must have been a second, because those marks continue along the path."

"So she is still with Nexus then?" Vegeta assumed the bastard had merely intercepted some resistance, but had not experienced a failure.

"Not necessarily," Radditz worked backwards in his investigating before coming across a footprint that caught his attention. "She must have escaped the carriage; these are a woman's tracks." The size and shape of the shoe prints a blatant proof. "She went this way," he led the elites into the forest, where he proceeded, with some difficultly, to track her all the way to an embankment. He pointed out a set of fresh hoof tracks that had followed not far behind, and then where the horse's imprints stopped, those of a man's boots started. "He began to follow her on foot until he met up with her here," Radditz looked nervously over the cliff. "Both their tracks appear to take them into the water."

After an unspoken pause where Vegeta and Radditz looked at one another, both contemplating the worst, they, with the accompanying elites, scrambled down the rocky hillside to investigate the shore surrounding the lake. It did not take long before Radditz picked up the trail once more. "Here, the man's foot prints continue here." He immediately noted that he saw no trace of Bulma's foot prints, leading him to believe that if she made it out of the water, it was not under her own power. "Yes, he set her here." He noted two circular indentations, approximated the size of a man's knees placed directly in front of a larger, less definite imprint, no doubt where he had placed Bulma.

"No sign of a struggle, so she was either unconscious, or did not fear her company." He followed the path to where he began to see two sets of tracks, one male and one female, collide with that of the horse prints he had recognized from earlier. "I would wager it was the latter. She walked with him to his horse, after which they took off in that direction." He pointed east. "Perhaps she had been frightened by the stranger, resulting in her tumble into the lake, but after he had a chance to explain that he was _perhaps_ a mercenary seeking the reward you placed for her return, she went quietly. _Perhaps_ she is already back at the castle, Sire." He wanted to be positive, but Vegeta was under no such inclination.

"Or _perhaps_ she had tried to escape Nexus and when he followed after her she took a tumble into the water and after he pulled her out he bound her hands, forcing her to accompany him without protest." He was simply not an optimistic man by nature; he expected the worst from everything and everyone he encountered.

"But why would he go after her alone, Sire? Why would the second carriage take off without him? Riding horseback with her would be much too dangerous; anyone could spot them. Not to mention this fails to explain why the only dead bodies we found were that of Nexus' crew. Whatever opposition he met must have bested him. Yes, I am much more disposed to believe someone had foiled Nexus' plans."

Vegeta did not respond for some time as he allowed himself a closer view of the tracks beside the lake. Radditz had been right about one thing, his wife had not fought her captor at this point. They had been close to one another, too close. "Bring the horses, we follow their tracks." He was going to get to the bottom of this, then he was going to reclaim his wife, and after that, he was going to keep her tied to his side if that is the only way he can guarantee her safety.

And may the gods help any man who dares to get in his way.

* * *

"Thank you," Bulma smiled as her lifelong friend wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders. After their frigid trek on horseback to the secluded inn they had found just before frostbite was ready to kick in, the heat of the fire she now sat comfortably in front of was the first relief she had felt in what seemed like hours.

"You should really take those off, to give them a chance to dry," he nodded, clumsily gesturing towards her wet cloths. "I promise not to look," he shot her a half smile before turning his back to her. Just as she remembered him, bashful only when in came to intimacies.

Heeding his advice, she did as he asked, removing her coat and riding suit to lie out over a chair to dry. Once she finished undressing all but her undergarments, she wrapped the blanket he had offered her back around her body, covering all her bare skin before reclaiming her seat on the floor by the fire. "Done," she finished with a half smile that faded the minute she turned back to see she had not been the only one undressing. Her former fiancé was now bare from the waist up, his boots removed, leaving him only dressed in his fitted black trousers.

Bulma might have felt a blush creep across her cheeks at the uncomfortable situation, but the sight of her companion's scarred chest as he turned back to face her thoroughly disturbed her attention. "What happened to you?" Her eyes stayed glued to the blade-sized scar that lay center on his left ribcage. As he walked over to her, taking a seat in front of her before the fire, she instinctively reached out to touch the mark. Once he was settled, her fingertips lightly grazed the blemish, "tell me."

Kakarrot remained silent for some time before he reached up and removed her probing fingers from his chest, a not surprising look of discontent upon his face. "This was part of the reason I have failed to alert you of my existence, this is the other," he lowered his head, while lifting her hand to touch another scar, this one on the back of his head. After giving her a few minutes to examine the mark, he lifted his gaze back up to meet hers. "My mind, my memory was not what it should have been after my battle with Nexus. I would not know where to begin telling the entire story, what happened the day of Nappa's defeat. What I recall is not completely clear, but when I awoke some days later, in the care of a nearby family of generous villagers, I had no idea who I was, or how I cam to be injured."

"Not a surprise," Bulma found it easy to be sympathetic, it was hard not to when the mere knowledge of his existence brought such great a sense of joy to her heart. "Your head injury clearly was severe, I have heard of memory loss being a result of such. But you are better now, your recollection complete, ne?"

She tried not to be alarmed by the hesitant note in his voice as he answered, but she could not help but hope for a more promising response. "This past year I have been retracing my steps, trying desperately to remember who I was. It has not been easy, but gradually, in pieces of memories, it all came back to me, including my obligations to you." He paused and reached in his pants' pocket, "We were in love, engaged to be wed. You gave me this," to Bulma's shock, he pulled out the long strip of her blue locks that she had cut and braided for him as a keepsake. "The villagers who found me told me I was clutching it with all the will power I had left in my body. I knew it had to be of some importance. The more I saw it, the more I held it, took in the lingering feminine scent, I slowly began to remember you, remember us."

If her heart could have pounded its way out of her chest, it may have at that moment. "Oh Kakarrot," she touched the braid. She should have believed him when he told her he would never be parted from her. She should have not trusted Vegeta when he showed her the destroyed locket.

"I-I was planning on marrying you, Bulma. We were engaged." It took her a moment to depart from her silent musing as she heard his hesitant voice again. She was more than ready to listen intently, but in a matter of moments, the bliss had been shattered by a quick realization.

"Oh, gods, you do not know," she closed her eyes suddenly feeling horribly guilty. "Kakarrot, so much has happened in your absence, I thought you were dead, I—I had felt so hopeless, I never for a minute though—"

"Bulma, calm down, just tell me what is wrong." She felt his grip on her tighten, a concerned look engulfing his face, making her hideous confession all the more painful.

"Oh Kakarrot," her eyes watered, why did it always have to be like this for her? Just when hope welled inside her, foreshadowing a chance at true happiness, it had to be swiftly broken by reality. "I—I can not marry you immediately, because I'm—I'm bound to another." Kakarrot blinked, unfazed by her statement. She should have noticed. "I had to wed, in name at least, to protect my people—your people from war. Nexus was aligned with my mother to take over what remained of the Vegeta and Tomabatsu; I had no choice, so I had to—"

"Vegeta," he whispered the name with an eerie coldness. After swallowing and clearing his throat, Kakarrot briskly admitted, "I know you married him just months after my believed death." Retracted his embrace, the tall man pushed himself to his feet. Pacing the room a few times, he clenched and then relaxed his fists before asking, "Has he been treating you well?" It was an odd question to hear, especially since her immediate reaction was one of indignation. Why would he doubt his brother's attentions to her? Regardless of their soiled past, a past Kakarrot had no knowledge of, Vegeta had been a perfect gentleman, much to her surprise, in their marriage. And after her violent encounter with Nexus, she felt all the more grateful for the lesser of two hells she had been living in these past two years.

"He has been good to me and only now can I recognize just how good; but none of that matters anymore, because now that you are back we can be together." She lifted the free hand that had not been holding the blanket to her chest and circled his face. The disheartened frown that was dented upon his lips immediately ignited her concern. "What's wrong? If you are worried about my union with Vegeta, do not be; it can easily be annulled. Hell, he already had the papers written up; he would probably jump at the chance to get rid of m—"

"It's not that," Kakarrot slowly circled the hand that rested upon his face and pulled it down to his lips for a protracted kiss. "Never mind, it's nothing," he extended a smile across his lips; it oddly looked forced.

"Kakarrot, are you sure-" A loud crashing noise halted Bulma's question. Someone was breaking down the door. Positioning Bulma behind him, Kakarrot prepared to protect his former fiancé, until they abruptly realized their intruders were not the enemy, at least not an overt one.

* * *

"Ka—Kak-ka-rot?" Vegeta's sword hit the ground seconds after he broke into the room, a small group of guards crowding around him. The king's eyes immediately fell upon the very much alive figure of his brother. For what seemed liked hours, no one seemed able to find his or her voice until Vegeta's eyes shifted from Kakarrot's to that of his scantily garbed wife. "Get out," the low-pitched order resounded through the room; the elites whom had been hunting with their king knew a forewarning order when they heard one. In a matter of seconds the room was cleared out, leaving behind only family.

"Brother," Kakarrot was the first to initiate a dialogue as he stepped away from Bulma, who by this point had turned bodily away from her husband, not even offering the courtesy of looking upon him.

The disrespect irrationally stole Vegeta's attention away from his resurrected brother for far too long before he managed to conjure a response, "So you're alive." It was a simple statement of the facts before he, through clenched teeth, demanded an explanation for such a miracle. After receiving an abridged version of what Kakarrot had just before told Bulma, Vegeta found himself a little too bitterly hissing, "and so you decided to mark your grand return from the dead by playing the part of a hero. Well done," he clapped his hands twice in mock adoration. He was not certain what made him despise the sight of his brother so intensely. They had parted on, at worst, indifferent terms. Though they had typical brotherly spats, animosity was never prevalent between them. And yet seeing his brother alive and well made him want to pull his sword and run it through the man's chest, sending him back to the peaceful death everyone believed him to be enjoying.

"The timing was coincidence. I was passing through a village not far from here on my way to your castle, intending to make my existence known when I heard word that Bulma had been abducted. Not long before that I had noticed two foreign carriages making haste through the woodlands, it occurred to me that they may have been Nexus' crew, and so I set off to catch up with them."

"And single handedly defeated Nexus and his entire band," Vegeta interrupted sardonically, clearly unimpressed with his brother's feat—or perhaps too awed.

"I only meant to distract them long enough for Bulma to escape," Kakarrot continued as if he had not heard his kin's bitter disruption. "Once Nexus came out to face me, I waited until I saw Bulma was clear of the scene before following after her. My focus was not to kill Nexus; Bulma's safety was higher on my list of priorities."

"Of course it was," The king sounded almost as if he were suppressing a laugh. "And then let me guess, after you made sure she was safe, you brought her back here so she could more privately express her gratitude." That time he managed to gain his wife's attention as he heard a low groan of offense echo from her throat. He would have savored her indignation had he not suddenly been pinned by his throat against the door behind him.

"We fell into a lake; we could have frozen to death." Vegeta could not remember ever seeing his brother grit his teeth as he was currently doing so. Gods, if he was reacting like this to a petty insult, he could not imagine what his reaction would be if he knew… "We were just letting our clothes dry, so spare us your vindictive comments. The lady has been through hell today, no thanks to your wonderful protection. She has done nothing to earn such disrespect from you."

Ah, a double hit, first accusing him of incompetence in his position of husband and second acting as her rightful protector. The nerve! _He_ was her husband! Not his absentee brother! Where was he when Bulma had to face her mother's betrayal? The forced marriage to Nexus? The possibility of losing her kingdom to the son of her father's murderer? Where was Kakarrot when she was forced to bind herself to a man she hated? Where was he when she broke down countless times, weeping for the happiness she would never again know? "You are right, my dear brother," The term was used with anything but the affection it should have been. "_My_ wife deserves my sympathies for what she has been through today, as you deserve my respect for safely returning her to _me_. So why do you not leave me to offer them while you find comfort in another room tonight. Perhaps with Radditz, you two were the best of friends once, ne? Why not rekindle that camaraderie while _my _wife and I discuss all that has been going on."

Kakarrot took a few steps back, his grip on his brother long having ceased as a perplexed look covered his face, as if he was trying to comprehend what his brother was communicating to him. The moment it hit him, Vegeta all too boastfully delighted in it. "Bulma, do you want me to leave?" the prodigal turned away from his brother and walked back towards the silent third party in the room. With the stiff twist of her head she locked eyes with the concerned man and then nodded slowly, "It's alright; Vegeta and I have a few things we need to discuss, so by tomorrow everything will be made right for us." She grasped Kakarrot's hand, and in a gesture that invoked a groan of disgust from her husband, she kissed the bruised appendage softly.

"Bulma," Kakarrot moved closer, trying to make private his words to her, "You do not need to feel intimidated by him-"

"You heard her, Kakarrot. She told you to leave. Get out." The boisterous voice of his brother stopped the younger man at the beginning of his confession. Though he looked ready to protest, a quiet nudge from Bulma for him to leave finally sent him warily from the room without another word.

As soon as the door clicked shut and the married couple were left alone, their eyes locked in a mutually unspoken warning. They both knew what was to come, another battle in their war for marital supremacy. Each had acquired enough ammunition in the last few hours to make their fight one of attrition, but both knew such a strategy would serve no purpose in this instance. When blue and ebony orbs clashed in a silent bombardment of thoughts and emotions, words became irrelevant, and all each could think of was how this moment might be one of their last together.

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, it has been a while, but I am working on getting these chapters up faster. The next one picks up right where this one leaves off. Bulma and Vegeta have it out. Does Kakarrot's reemergence truly mean the end of their marriage? Until then…


	9. A First and Last

**_Unwanted _**

**__**

Chapter 9 – A First and Last

"Nexus struck you?" Vegeta's hand rose to gently touch his wife's bruised cheek, a sight that had distracted him momentarily from his irrational jealousy.

"I'm sure it looks worse than it is," Bulma shifted her head, trying to brush his hand away, clearly not willing to admit her pain to him. Unfortunately, Vegeta had no interest in humoring her pride.

"You need something cold placed on that, it's swelling," he insisted as he guided her over to the bed to have a seat. Ignoring her protests, he ordered her not to move a muscle as he disappeared from the room only long enough to have one of his guards fetch him some ice. When he returned, to his surprise, she had in fact followed his instruction and remained sitting dejectedly on the bed. Her palms were circling one another as they rested on her lap, her head down, and a blatantly pensive look upon her face. No doubt where her mind was centered, Kakarrot, the lucky resurrected bastard. "The ice will be here in a moment," Vegeta advanced upon her still dazed figure. Kneeling in front of her, he placed a second blanket he had acquired on his brief excursion over her exposed legs. Pressing his hands on either side of her thighs, he captured her fallen gaze as he asked her to describe to him, "What happened with Nexus?"

Her account was brief, leaping from the moment she had regained consciousness to Kakarrot's saving of the day, but something about the way she skimmed over her interlude with Nexus in the carriage disturbed him. Stating that they had argued and he had struck her was simply too vague for the king to determine exactly what had passed between captor and hostage. So in desperation to force her to open up, Vegeta inquired, "That does not explain how abducting you would have been of any benefit to him. He must have given you some clue as to his plan." Her eyes narrowed slightly, almost as though she had been struck and was staring down her assailant. Before she even spoke, he knew he would not like her answer.

"His plan was simple. He would have our marriage annulled so that I would be free to marry him." It was preposterous! Nexus might have been a fool, but he certainly must have realized the impossibility of such a plan.

Barely containing a chuckle, Vegeta shook his head. "His desperation to best me must have driven him mad. How could he possibly believe anyone would trust his blatantly falsified annulment papers? I would have charged his palace with a joint assault by our peoples sooner than he could convince anyone of such an illegality."

The fact that she was finding no humor in the scenario concerned him, but not nearly as much as her response would. "It would not have been a farce, Vegeta. The parchment he had was written and legitimatised by the same mediator who presided over our nuptials. All that was missing was my signature, yours, and we both know it was yours, was already scribed."

If a mirror had been behind his wife, Vegeta no doubt would have been able to see his entire expression pale. The annulment papers he had written just a few months ago had somehow found their way into Nexus' hands, and almost cost Bulma her life, all because of his damn developing desire for her.

He had thought it would be a measure of protection for himself. In the last two years, his passion for her had gone from mild to scorching. Nearly every night he slept alone, knowing her soft body was wrapped in the comfort of feathery pillows and blankets just next door to him; he dreamed of her. He dreamed of _that_ night, the only night they had ever laid together, the only coupling that had ever meant anything to him. It was a night that made him experience emotions he would have never admitted.

And then he began training her. The sweet image he once had of her as a curious virgin had turned into a lusty fantasy of a strong, defiant woman who would submit to no man. His restraint had finally broken one evening when they had collapsed on the floor together, her body tumbling roughly atop his after a deflection technique gone wrong. The arousing scents of her perspiration and the few sapphire tresses from her loose braid that had fallen over his face had been the final breaking point. It vividly sparked the memory of their mating, destroying whatever had been left of his control, along with his promise to withhold any unwelcome attentions.

His hands slid around her back, trapping her against his firm torso as his lips devoured her skin. Starting at what had been closest, her chest, he hungrily trekked up her soft creamy neck until he reached her chin, which he intended as a catapult to those luscious lips that had been haunting him for years, when his affections were finally halted by a violent shove from the woman above him. She chose not to say anything as she scrambled to her feet. She merely offered him a horrified expression of disgust as she turned away from him and left his sunken figure on the floor, furious with himself for his lack of control.

Though they continued as though nothing had happened, a silence Vegeta had been grateful for, he heeded the warning he was dealt. Somehow in the last few months, or perhaps longer, he had found himself less indifferent to his wife than he had ever intended to be, a sentiment that scared him into having the annulment prepared. He knew their union would in a matter of months be coming to a close. His forces had finally rebuilt in strength, and his batsu along with that of the Tomabatsu was finally synchronizing. Nexus' days were numbered, which meant he and Bulma would have no need to remain in their sham of a marriage. It had been a thought that invoked a surprising amount of irritation in Vegeta's psyche.

He had grown accustomed to having the fiery woman around. Seeing her sit across from him every evening at dinner, training her at night and most shamefully, knowing she was in the chambers next to him invoked some sense of rightness that had begun to make him question whether or not ending their marriage was a wise choice. But it was. Even if he had his doubts, he knew she did not, and he was not about to take her freedom from her any more than he already had. So he signed the annulment papers, ensuring that when the time came, and their marriage would have to end, it could be done peacefully, without a second thought or protest that his insane mind had been concocting.

After signing them he had tucked them away in a locked chest in his private chambers. How they were found, and how anyone gained access to his room meant heads would roll, but right now blame seemed of little importance. He had to take responsibility for his actions, and though he thought signing them had been in her best interest, Vegeta could tell by the infuriated gleam in her eyes that she would not see it that way. And since he was certainly not about to admit his true reasoning for having the documents preemptively scribed, this dialogue would without a doubt get worse. "Bulma—" A knock sounded at the door and the soldier he had sent to retrieve some ice for her bruised cheek entered.

Once the third party was dismissed, Vegeta applied the ice to her tender flesh. His jaw tightened as he watched her wince at the pressure. There would be hell to pay the next time he laid eyes on Nexus. "Do you have any other injuries?" The king wondered why he had stupidly not thought to ask her earlier.

After some hesitation, most likely debating whether or not she should tell him the truth, Bulma shook her head. "Just a few bruises and a chill; I should be fine by tomorrow."

"If you are still cold, I can get you another—"

"No," she took the ice from his hand and began holding it against her cheek without his aid. "As I said, I am fine. What we need to be discussing right now is not my health, but what is no doubt predominant on both our minds. Kakarrot."

Vegeta wanted to scoff. His revived brother was most certainly not predominant on his mind; his wife's safety, Nexus' slaughter, and _then_ learning more about his kin's disappearing act. But it seemed Bulma's priorities were very different.

"Fate has blessed each of us with a gift tonight, Vegeta. You can finally have your war, and I can be with the man I love. This nightmare we have been sharing is finally over. So you can stop pretending like you care. You do not have to finagle me into anything; I have wanted this annulment just as much as you, so let us just cut through all the bull and be frank. Once we return to the castle you can have another one of those annulment parchments written and we can sign it and then I can marry Kakarrot, so you retain the Tomabatsu army and can go off to seek that final glorious battle you have no doubt been dreaming of for the last two years. It's a scenario better than what we could have ever hoped for."

The excitement in her voice made him nauseous. He imagined her pleased with the prospect of parting from him, but this elation was just cruel to press upon a man's sensitive ego. "Right," Vegeta chose to answer neutrally as he rose to his feet and began slowly pacing the chambers, trying to determine why this news upset him. She was right. He had frequently stated that he wished his brother had survived, if for no other reason than to take his banshee of a wife off of his hands. But as much as it pained him to admit, the banshee had become, well, his banshee, and the thought of his brother taking her from him seemed, well, _wrong_.

"I do not want to sound ungrateful," her soft voice interrupted his musings. "I mean, for all the anger and disgruntlement that lies between us, you have been fair with me these last two years, a kindness that I will not forget anytime soon."

"You should pick your words more carefully, my lady. Your statement almost verges on a tender note." Though the comment had been meant in mocking, to the king's surprise, Bulma responded with further sincerity.

"I do not hate you, Vegeta, not anymore." Those words echoed through his mind as his chest tightened. Never had he imagined such a confession, but never did he imagine his brother's resurrection, and thus arising an amiable set of circumstances under which they could part. Part? Was he ready to part with her? For all the chaos he had caused in her life these past two years, a part of him had grown accustomed to her presence. The thought of her leaving him—no, not leaving him completely. He would still see her, only now on his brother's arm, looking at Kakarrot adoringly, swollen with his nephew.

Grinding his teeth, Vegeta walked back to the bed. Taking a heavy seat next to his soon to be former wife, he offered a surprising confession of his own. "I am… glad," he immediately wondered if the statement sounded as awkward to her as it did to him, "that your animosity has diminished, but I have to wonder if our immediate separation is wise. With Nexus loose I do not think now is the time to be dealing with annulments and remarriages. I mean, after all, we have put up with each other for two years, how much more difficult could a few months, just until Nexus has been swiftly removed, be?"

Vegeta was not certain why his body tensed as if expecting a blow when he made the suggestion. But much to his relief, it only took him a few seconds to calm as he realized by his wife's pensive expression that she was taking his advisement to heart. "Of course, you are right." She nodded her head after what had felt like an eternity of deliberation. "I am sorry, I suppose I was just so excited to see Kakarrot once more that I became narrow focused. Yes, we need to handle this carefully. We will wait."

The king nodded stiffly as he rose to his feet, clearly placated by his wife's response. "In that case, I hope I do not have to remind you how important my reputation is with my people. During this interim I have no desire to face any scandal regarding you and my brother, so as you carry on your affair make certain it is done as discreetly as possible. No more of this walking in on you two with little to no clothing on." It had been a frustrating command to order of his wife, but Vegeta had completed it without a trace of emotion in his voice.

Following his lead, Bulma rose from her seat, allowing the second blanket he had covered her with to fall to the ground as she wrapped her original more tightly around her body. Removing the ice from her cheek, she sat it on the nightstand beside the bed. Looking eye to eye with her husband, she carefully questioned, "Is that what would bother you? Kakarrot and I sullying your reputation?"

Vegeta's eyes immediately narrowed. Her facial expression had changed; an almost vulnerable innocence was now covering her bruised face as she slowly traced a path with her eyes from his to his lips. "I am sure I have no idea what you mean to imply by that."

And then with a clarifying blink, the expression was gone, and whatever honesty he briefly witnessed immerge quickly retreated. "Of course you would not," she finished with a forced laugh as she reclaimed her seat and the second blanket from the floor. "You know I am terribly tired, I think it would be best if I attempted to get some sleep." She turned her back to him and slid under the covers, giving him the distinct impression she felt embraced for some reason, odd.

"Very well," Vegeta quietly acknowledged her decision as he walked over to take a seat in a rather uncomfortable chair tucked away on the side of the room. Not a moment before he found a tolerable position to rest in, he heard an indignant hiss.

"What do you think you are doing?" Bulma twisted around to face her husband, her body well covered by the sheets.

"I was planning on sleeping," Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest as he attempted to restrain a smirk. He knew damn well his evasive answer was not the one she wished to hear.

"I am sure there are other rooms with comfortable beds you can be doing that in. So, if you do not mind, I would like my privacy." Not an unreasonable request, but certainly not one he would appease.

"My dear wife, I am terribly sorry if you feel your privacy has been infringed upon," his face was the picture of sarcasm, "but you were abducted today, and if you think I am going to allow you a moment alone while Nexus is on the loose then you truly have learned nothing about me over these past two years."

Her jaw dropped, ever so slightly, but it was enough for Vegeta to notice. It irritated him that she clearly was ignorant to just how important her safety was to him. With a low growl, she turned back over, mumbling about the hypocrisy of his choice not to escort her on a ride early that day before silently returning to being well tucked away under the covers. As he listened to her breathing calm, Vegeta felt a half smile pull across his lips. Two years married and this was the first time he would be sleeping in the same room as his wife. His smile fell as quickly as it rose. A shame it would also be the last.

* * *

_"Is that what would bother you? Kakarrot and I sullying your reputation?"_ What the hell had she been thinking when she asked that?! Bulma almost drew blood from the pressure her teeth were placing upon her lips. It took all her willpower to feign sleep while she felt severe agitation. What had possessed her to ask such a question? As if he cared whom she carried on with! The man was no doubt merely humoring her by saving his tears of joy at their separation until he could more privately display his jubilation. Of course he would not know what she had been implying; and probably best he did not.

An eerie memory suddenly materialized in the queen's restless mind.

A late night during one of their training sessions they had collapsed on the floor together, her body tumbling roughly atop his after a deflection technique gone wrong. She would never forget the eternity she had felt his arms around her. He was so strong, so secure that she found herself unwilling to part from the warmth of his body. And then the unexpected happened, his hands slid around her back, no doubt his intention to push her body off his, but she had not allotted him the chance.

Her fingers, under a mind of their own, laced through his wild ebony mane as she pulled him closer to her body. His lips found her heaving chest and before she knew what was happening, their bodies were fused together. His tongue had been hot, burning a trail up her neck, across her chin, until he was merely inches from her lips. That was when the reality of what she had started struck her. She was encouraging a man she had made swear never to touch her, but even worse, she wanted it. Perhaps it had been the adrenalin of the sparring match, or perhaps it was her loneliness or simply the female inclination to want the affections of a man lavished upon her, but whatever it was, it scared her, and so she had pushed him away while she still had the strength of mind to do so.

The look upon his face had been devastating. His breathing was heavy, his eyelids lazy. _Lust._ She knew the expression, she had seen it before in his eyes, and the horror of seeing it once more sent her sprinting from the room, not a word uttered as she retreated to her chambers, praying he would not follow after her to demand an explanation for her coldly retracted invitation.

To her relief, he did nothing. Not only did he leave her in peace that night, he did not comment on the matter the following day when she met with him for dinner. She had hoped it was a sign of his indifference, that his attraction was only piqued by the convenience of the offer. But the comfort was only minimal. The reality of her less than indifferent attraction made her fear what lay in store for her. If she could succumb to him once, there was no doubt she could again. And if she did—at best she would be used and abandoned, at worst she could become with child, and be bound to an unfeeling man for the rest of her existence, a fate she could not chance, not again.

No, she was not about to allow either circumstance to occur. She had made a new resolution to herself to be more unaffected by his presence. It was merely a mild case of lust she had developed, no doubt a result of her lack of male company thanks to her overprotective husband. She had managed to quickly convince herself that not only would such an occurrence never happen again, but that it had never truly happened in the first place, at least not while she was in any rational state of mind. A laundry list of excuses ranging from heat exhaustion to a repressed delusional desire to reach out to her deceased love through his brother had easily cushioned her sense of reason from the truth.

And then tonight happened.

Why she had wanted to hear it she perhaps would never be able to admit to herself, but she wanted to hear her husband say the words. She wanted him to be jealous. _"I hope I do not have to remind you how important my reputation is with my people. During this interim I have no desire to face any scandal regarding you and my brother, so as you carry on your affair make certain it is done as discreetly as possible. No more of this walking in on you two with little to no clothing on."_ Perhaps it had been the insult to her modesty that had pierced her so deeply, or merely the accusation that she would carry on an affair while she was, at least legally, still bound to another, but something had created in her a false belief that there was more emotion in the request that he was making than he was willing to admit.

As she locked eyes with him, for a single moment, she thought perhaps there was something more inside him, something deeper he had grown to feel for her over the years. His mood had been very calm and understanding as she spoke of his brother. His touch had been gentle as he fussed over her injuries. But most surprisingly, his eyes, they hid more emotion than she could ever recall them pulsating with. So she had stupidly asked. She had given him the chance to confess a sentiment that her mind had no doubt concocted out of some twisted sense of one-upmanship. Their verbal war had been going on for so long; the need for a challenge had become reflexively constant.

But his response had been too cold, _"I am sure I have no idea what you mean to imply by that."_ It could have been worse, he could have laughed at her, mocked her suggestion or even been insulted by it, but no, instead he simply pleaded ignorance. As if the concept was so far from his mind that he could not even contemplate it. It enraged her, it humiliated her, but most depressingly, it broke something inside her, a hope she would never admit to herself. What that hope was for and how it came to be there, she could not say, but it existed. She felt it when she had sunk back onto the bed, blinking several times as if tears would have fallen if she had not.

And then he had to stay. A chill ran down Bulma's spine as if she could feel his eyes on her at that very moment. Shifting the covers more tightly around her body she attempted to control her shivering. His presence should not be affecting her so. She should not even care that he was sitting stiffly in a chair watching her, thinking only the gods know what. Probably about his impending war, that would no doubt consume his mind for the duration of the following months. Not that she cared, of course.

The floor creaked; he had risen from his chair. Footsteps followed for a few minutes before they stopped, what sounded like, directly behind her. Another blanket descended upon her body. A strong hand lingered over her bicep after he finished evening out the covering. For a moment Bulma worried he had discovered her consciousness, but then she felt the bed behind her compress. He sat down, and his heavy grip loosened as he moved his fingers in slow strokes over her arm. "I believe I am going to miss training you every evening," he admitted rather oddly, his voice just above a whisper. "Kakarrot will treat you well." His train of thought suddenly seemed to change. "He will make you happy." His hand glided over to her hair. He stroked it a few times before finally admitting in a somber tone that reminded her of his first offer of marriage, "Perhaps I could have, if given the chance."

His warmth left her side; he was on his feet once again. A low chuckle echoed through the room as she heard him pad back over to his chair, "Then again," the same soft voice paused, as he let out a short breath, mostly likely having lowered himself back into the seat, "perhaps not."

There was no other sound heard as Bulma's eyes opened into the darkness, the echo of his suggestion too potent to keep them closed. Did he mean he would have been a good husband had she granted him all his rights? Was he suggesting that they might have had a chance if she had not been so reluctant? Or was it merely a joke, a statement of relief that he would never have to learn the answer to his hypothetical?

Biting her tongue, Bulma controlled the urge to turn around and ask him just what the hell he meant. But it did not matter, not really. She and Kakarrot were always meant to be. Once Nexus was under control she would have her happy ending. What might or could have happened between her and Vegeta was irrelevant. Their time together was over. She had a beautiful future to look forward to now. No more second-guessing, no more hesitation. This was her chance at happiness. It was time she took that one chance to embrace it, and never look back.

* * *

Author's Note: Hmmm… So Bulma seems to know what she wants, and Vegeta seems quite complacent in accepting the inevitable. Could this all turn out as simply as they claim? Don't bet on it... Next time…

Side Note: Before the end of this week, I am going to post the prologue to a new story I am working on. It is called _Unspoken_. It is a B/V a/u, set in a timeline that is more parallel to the DBZ universe than this fic. So far I am quite into it. If you would like to know more about it, as well as read a snippet from it, you can go to my bio. I shall not be posting it on Fanfiction.net because of NC-17 restrictions, so for regular updates you will have to go to MediaMiner.org to read it. Eventually it may be posted on other sites, but the most updated chapters will be there for now. Any questions, or if you would like to be added to my update list to learn every time I update the story, just e-mail me.


	10. Passion

**_Unwanted _**

**__**

Chapter 10 – Passion

The carriage ride back to the castle could have been described as awkward at best. A heavy silence encased the four-person transport as Bulma sat next to her husband who sat across from his brother. Radditz occupied the fourth seat across from Bulma, and in a blatant attempt to lighten the mood, exchanged some mild banter with her. Their exchange, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears as Vegeta and Kakarrot maintained a deadlocked staring match.

"So where _exactly_ were you, Kakarrot?" Vegeta's first words since the beginning of the voyage froze Bulma and Radditz mid-thought as they turned their heads to glance at the men next to them. "I mean, you did confess to be taken care of by a 'family of generous villagers,' but you have been quite cryptic in admitting anything more. Perhaps you should tell us who these generous subjects are. They should be honored for the service they did for a member of the royal—"

"They will be left alone!" The cruelness in the prince's voice startled even his inquisitor. As if he suddenly realized how icy his tone had been, Kakarrot quickly corrected, "They are a modest, peaceful people. They would not desire any unnecessary attention."

"Of course, we will respect their wishes," Bulma tried to help smooth over the volatile overtone of his previous comment. "Though I must admit, I would very much like to meet them. I wish to thank them in person for taking such good care of you."

With a half smile, Kakarrot nodded his head, "I imagine you would." His oddly phrased response sent the carriage back into another stuffy silence. Kakarrot lowered his head, eyes closed, slowly circling his palms over one another. Radditz struck a similar posture, only with his arms crossed. Vegeta, however, kept his eyes wide open as he observed his brother's suddenly sunken form. Something about his reaction to the villagers he had been staying with the past two years did not sit well with the King; could it be that the faultless son had something to hide?

An elbow struck the pensive man in his side as he turned his head to glance down at his wife. "Don't even think about it," a pair of luscious red lips mouthed the words without echoing a sound. It seemed the young woman was concerned her husband was going to hit another of her lover's nerves.

With a partial smirk, Vegeta gently began to caress his wife's bruised cheek with the back of his right hand. "How is this doing?" he questioned just above a whisper. Why argue about his brother when they could be talking about a much more interesting topic, her. "The swelling seems to have gone down."

"It feels better," Bulma answered just as quietly so as not to disturb the men across from them.

"Good," Vegeta's eyes glued to the pale woman. "I'll have a physician properly examine you once we arrive."

"That won't be necessary," The queen's voice rose slightly. "I am fine," she lowered it once more, "really."

"Really?" Vegeta questioned with a raised brow. "Then I shall expect to see you tonight for your lessons," his lips brushed slightly against her ear when he moved closer so that no one heard his demand but whom he intended.

"Do you think that is a wise idea?" Bulma lifted her lips to meet his ear. Though every fiber of her being was telling her to pull away, she could not help but remain close to his warmth.

"Why wouldn't it be?" His hand slid down the side of her body before finding a comfortable spot on the seat cushion, directly next to her thigh. "I promise to be gentle since you are still recuperating."

"Gentle?" She did not know why she repeated the word in a voice so breathy he must have thought her exhausted. She did not know why that one word had stuck in her head, or why she wanted to hear him whisper it again, but she did. Something about the closeness of his proximity was making her heart race and logical thought difficult to conjure.

"As _gentle_ as you like," his lips skimmed across her neck as he pulled away so his eyes could once again lock with hers, "Do not disappoint me." The statement ended on cue with a halt of the carriage. "About damn time," Vegeta's crude curse deflated the seductive mood so quickly that Bulma felt as though she had been slapped.

Still in a partial daze, she accepted her husband's hand as he guided her out of the carriage, followed closely by Kakarrot and Radditz. Once the cart had pulled away, Radditz decreed, "I shall escort the queen to her chambers." The soldier announced the orders his king had instructed him of before their departure. With every intention of carrying them out, he extended his arms for the queen to grasp.

"Actually, I think it would be best that I escort her," Kakarrot spoke up, blocking the larger man's offer. "Bulma and I barely had a moment to speak to one another last night. We still have much catching up to do."

"Yes, I suppose we do still have several things to discuss. You do not mind, of course," Bulma switched her gaze to that of her husband. Though by the dangerous gleam in his eyes she could tell he wanted to object, he voiced no such complaint.

"I do not care what the two of you do," he dismissed them like servants with a wave of his hand. "Just have your 'things' cleared up by dinner. I am ordering all elites to the castle two nights from this evening where I shall formally announce your return. I believe the two pronged announcement of your safety," he glanced down at his wife, "and your miraculous resurrection," coldly to his brother, "shall go a long way in disrupting Nexus' plans."

War, everything always came back to war with Vegeta. "Whatever you think is best," Bulma's voice dripped with false sincerity as she grabbed her childhood friend's arm and nearly dragged him in the direction of the castle. Once the pair had disappeared from sight, Bulma began with the apologies, "I am terribly sorry about him. He just—"

"—is angry," Kakarrot wrongly finished her thought as he offered a surprising observation, "But then again, anger is my brother's favorite emotion. He is clearly displeased by my return from the dead as well as my blatant interest in stealing his wife."

With a stifled laugh, Bulma disagreed heartily, "Do not feel so guilty. I assure you, Vegeta is not angry you are here, if anything he is grateful he can finally unload me."

"I seriously doubt that," Kakarrot objected sternly. "This morning when I spoke to him, he made no reference to any interest of his to unload you. In fact, he left me with the distinct impression that he wanted no confusion over whose duty it was to protect you, and in his view, it is most assuredly _not_ me."

"You must be mistaken," Bulma insisted as she motioned for them to resume walking towards a more private location where they could hold this delicate conversation. "Vegeta does not want us to 'sully' his reputation while we are still wed, of course, but that does not mean you should treat me as though I am another man's property."

"Now that, I would never do," the odd sounding remark came as Kakarrot grasped Bulma's arms and pulled her into the nearest secluded room so that they could speak in private. Once they were shielded from interruption, Kakarrot confessed, "Bulma, there is something I want you to know."

The younger woman blinked briefly, before asking him to, "Go on."

"I can not begin to apologize for all the heartache my absence has caused you, but I swear, I will make this right for you. You have my word; I will fix the damage that has been done."

Bulma felt her eyebrow rise slightly as she listened to Kakarrot's avow; damage? heartache? He must have some horrible images of what married life to his brother has been like. Bulma was resolute to dissuade him, "It has not been so terrible for me, Kakarrot. Please do not feel so guilty. All things considered, Vegeta has treated me quite well."

"There is no need to lie to me," Kakarrot snapped in a cruel tone Bulma was not used to. It jolted her back a step. "I know what he is capable of," he turned his back to his childhood love, his voice hinting at a knowledge that unnerved Bulma.

"Kakarrot," Bulma tried to sooth her tone. Walking in front of the man, she circled his cheek with her hand as she lowered his face to meet hers, "I am so glad you have returned to me. It is a dream I have long since believed could no longer come true. So let us not dwell on the past, but look to the future, to our future, together." She lowered his face to press her lips to his forehead. It was only after she made the gesture that she realized how impersonal it was.

However, Kakarrot did not seem to notice as he pulled away from her, taking her arms and guiding her to a seat next to him. "You are right," he helped her to sit beside him. "We should instead be getting caught up," he reminded, and they did. As if they had not been separated for two years, they spent hours together, simply reminiscing like two old friends. _Friends_, which Bulma failed to acknowledge, whose spark was not what it once was.

* * *

She was late, two hours late. It was not the first time she had been tardy arriving to her lessons, but never this length of time. With an angered sigh, Vegeta placed the sword he had been unenthusiastically practicing with back on its alter. After pulling his shirt back on, he exited the training facility with the very specific purpose of finding out exactly why his wife had chosen to renege on her promise to keep their regular training appointment. Not, of course, that he doubted where she was, or more specifically, whom she was with. In fact he was half tempted to go straight to Kakarrot's chambers with every expectation of finding her there.

The two of them had been so bold as to jointly send, via servants, their apologies for not being able to make dinner; Bulma complaining of a slight headache and Kakarrot saying he was exhausted from travel. They were humiliatingly absurd excuses that had caused a long moment of universal recognition and, even worse, pity from the few elites that regularly dined with him. It had almost been enough for Vegeta to storm out of the dining hall to track the two of them down, but he would not allow himself to appear so pathetic. He made a crude joke about the two, as if he was immune to their disrespectful actions, but he was not. He was angry and he had several choice words to lay on his adulterous wife when she arrived to train, fool that he was to believe she still would.

Arriving outside of his wife's chambers, he pounded on the door three loud times. As angry as he was, he did not want to make a scene, and bring any more undo attention to them than she already had. When there was no response, he pounded three more solid times; that was when he heard her. It was a soft sound, no more than her light feet padding across the stone floor. He heard the lock on her door unbolt and then the sound of her voice preceded his visual of her.

"Come on now, you have to let me get some sleep—" Her eyes finally landed on her visitor and she realized it was not whom she had been expecting. Vegeta's chest immediately tightened. Her eyes were glowing, no doubt from lingering excitement over his unworthy brother. The white dressing gown she wore only made her radiant form appear more angelic. She never once looked this excited to see him. "Vegeta," she whispered his name, thoroughly surprised, "I'm sorry, I thought you were-"

"Kakarrot, yes, I gathered as much." Vegeta walked past his wife to secure his access to her room. Once he was a few steps away from her, he heard the door close behind him. "You missed dinner."

"I am sorry," she stuttered briefly as she began her excuse, "Kakarrot and I just became so caught up in reminiscing, we forgot what time it was and—"

"Abandoned your obligations," Vegeta cut to the chase. "However, that does not explain why you failed to join me for our training session."

Her eyes sped open and closed, before she frowned apologetically. "I am sorry, I forgot." Of course she forgot; she was too wrapped up in her recent streak of luck to care. "We spent hours talking. It was just like old times." She seemed intent on offering him details he did not want. Vegeta contemplated simply leaving. "He seemed a little different though." The slight change in her intonation kept Vegeta from retreating. Walking over to the windowsill, Bulma took a seat upon it. Tucking her legs against her chest, she confessed, "He seemed distant at times, but I suppose that should be expected after all he has gone through."

Vegeta followed her to the sill. Taking what little space was left, he sat next to her feet. "He still loves you." It was a statement of a fact Vegeta anticipated being true, which was why he was startled by her response.

"He says he does." The uncertainty in her voice was duly noted by Vegeta. Not saying he does, she failed to be so direct, just implying Kakarrot merely claims so.

"Do you not believe him?" Vegeta begged the question. All of the vivacity had disappeared from his wife's face. "No, I am certain he would not lie to me. I suppose I am just somewhat afraid of facing reality. I fear waking tomorrow to find this is all a dream."

"You are that content," Vegeta barely whispered it, his eyes no longer focused on Bulma. He was thinking about the exit again.

"You know this is what I have always wanted, a real marriage to a man who loves me." Vegeta twisted his head to see hers supported by the window. It was odd how her demeanor continued to diminish.

"That is not an answer," Vegeta dropped one of his hands to rest next to him on the sill; it made contact with her foot before he quickly snapped it back in immediate displeasure. "For fuck's sake, woman, you could have died yesterday of pneumonia and here I find you freezing yet another night in a row." Invoking a startled gasp, Vegeta reached out to pull his chilled wife into his arms. Damning the consequences of such a liberty, he carried her delicate figure towards the fireplace in her room. Lowering them to the hearth, he rested her between his legs, bending one to support her back as the other one stretched out comfortably underneath her knees. Her head fell against his chest as his hands roamed up and down her arms, creating a warming friction.

"I do not feel that cold," Bulma scolded as she attempted to bat his hands away. Vegeta would have none of it.

"You are no use to me dead, woman. If you will not take better care of yourself, then I will have to step up to the challenge." This time Bulma laughed, an honest laugh, as she slowly began to relax against him.

"So what will you do, after the war is over and our marriage is annulled? Will you remarry?" The question startled him, especially considering how blasé she sounded about the matter.

"Not likely. You have given me my fair share of marriage," Vegeta snapped mockingly. The woman in his arms shook her head as she twisted it to face his.

"Do not be like that. You do not want to be alone for the rest of your life. You must want companionship? love?" Vegeta scoffed. At one time he might have believed in the possibility, with the appropriate woman, but Vegeta had long since been assured of his immunity to the emotion.

"You of all people should know that I do not believe in love, thus marriage for me would be nothing short of an inconvenience."

"Like I am?" Her tone was emotionless again. It made his blood run cold. "I suppose you are right. But who knows, maybe one day you will find someone you might grow to care about. You could be happy."

"No, I couldn't," Vegeta spoke from his gut before he allowed his mind a moment to consider what he was saying, "You should know better, woman. I would never settle for a tame relationship based on platonic tolerance."

"Why?" Bulma raised a brow, questioning his declaration. "I would give anything to have someone to share my life with. Even if those feelings do not run much deeper than that of friendship, they can provide happiness." Her statement sounded almost desperate at the end, causing Vegeta to conclude that she was not speaking generally. Was his young wife making her rekindled love affair appear to be more than it truly was?

"You should marry a man who would sell his soul to any evil just for the chance to have one night with you in his bed, just one night to see you look upon him as if he was the only man in the world who would ever experience your love and admiration. That, Bulma, is passion, an essential no unarranged marriage should be without. To settle for less would be to cheat yourself out of more years than this war already has. I would not want to see you do that, not even for my brother."

The warmth that was resting on his chest suddenly disappeared and Vegeta found himself face to face with a pair of stunned crystal blue eyes. "I—I was not talking about myself and Kakarrot," Bulma rushed to insist, "I was asking for you not—"

"How many years have we been married?" Vegeta ran his fingers through his wife's hair; tucking some behind her ear, he had to repeat his question before she finally answered.

"You know it's been almost two years to the day." The day after this one in fact, he had thoughtlessly realized it after he had made the plans for the celebration to recognize his brother's return to the living and his wife's return from captivity. Although, perhaps it was poetic, they could solidify the end of their marriage on the same cursed day they began it.

"And in those two years," he used one palm to stroke her soft hair as the other unthreateningly caressed her legs from knee to ankle. "How many times have you allowed my lips to touch yours?"

Her back arched as he slid the hand from her head down her spine. Her eyelids began to fall as she admitted, "You have kept your promise for a chaste marriage. We have never—not even—no, never." He may have put his lips on other places, their sparring match a few months ago came to mind, but she had not allowed him to touch her lips. Not even on their wedding day did she respect him with even so much as a light brush of her rose petal softness. He would change that before this night ended.

"Will you still reject me, if I attempted to kiss you now?" Her hand found his chest and slowly began to slide over his pectoral muscles, inside his shirt, as if searching for warmth. Her second hand reached for his cheek and before either knew what was happening, her lips were merely inches from his.

"We—we shouldn't," her conscience spoke, yet her body failed to move.

"The hell we shouldn't," Vegeta closed the gap, flipping her beneath him, pressing her flush against him. His lips were next to her ear, waiting for her permission. "Just say yes," he nearly begged as he bit her earlobe.

"No more than a kiss," she finally conceded. Vegeta knew he had won.

"No more than what you ask," he technically agreed as he moved his lips closer to hers. "Let me hear it. Ask me to break your rule."

"Yes," was all she had time to whisper before he pressed his mouth to hers. Immediately parting her lips to welcome his invasion, she lifted her hands to lace them through his wild mane, pulling him closer to her body.

Vegeta was certain for a good minute that he was dreaming, but as he knotted his fingers through her wavy tresses and heard the all too real sound of his name being moaned, he knew this was no dream. "Vegeta," she whispered as they trembled against one another upon the bearskin that rested in front of the fireplace. Sliding his hands down the side of his wife's body, Vegeta momentarily cupped her rear before grasping the hem of her gown, slowly pushing it up, unveiling more and more skin to his naked touch.

"No," Bulma gasped suddenly, pushing herself from under her husband. "What are we doing?" she asked to no one in particular as she straightened herself out. "We can not do this."

Growling, Vegeta's eyes flew open. Sitting straight up, he watched Bulma neaten her gown in a mad haste, "Why the hell not?" He had never felt so irate in all his life. He did not doubt she wanted him; her refusal was merely a pathetic attempt to protect herself from the inevitable.

"Because there are consequences to our actions," she said a little more cruelly than expected.

Slamming his hand on the ground beside him, Vegeta pushed himself to his feet. "There are also benefits, but if you are too cowardly to reach out for them, then that is your loss." This time when he eyed the door, he had every intention to leave without turning back.

"Vegeta!" he heard her follow after him. "Vegeta, wait." The fingers of one hand circled his bicep as the other pressed to the door to keep it closed. "Look, I am sorry. It's just that…"

He finally turned around as she paused. Already believing he knew what she was going to say, he encouraged, "just what?"

"I was awake last night when you said that you believed you might have been able to make me happy if I had given you the chance." Vegeta's assumption had been wrong.

"You were awake?" he choked out, suddenly feeling completely violated even though it was not a justifiable feeling. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?!"

"I did not know what to say," she confessed exasperatedly before calming her voice. "In two years of living with you, you had never been as soft spoken with me as you were the other evening; and, well, if felt nice. I thought if you knew I was awake, you would have stopped."

"Unbelievable," He mumbled under his breath as he turned away from her, trying to compose himself as he tried to make sense of what she was telling him.

"Did you mean it?"

Such a simple question, but damn if it was not a loaded one; how the hell did he answer that? It was no longer relevant. They would soon be parted now that Kakarrot was alive. "You are not suggesting that you would wish to stay with me even now that Kakarrot is back in your life?" He was cruel in his delivery as he crossed his arms and turned to face her.

Her eyelids slid closed and then opened very slowly before she silently shook her head, "I do not know what I want, but I may sooner find some clarity if you would honestly admit what it is you want. Why did you kiss me just now?"

"You asked me to," the erroneous answer was not believed by either. "If anyone should be asking that question it is I of you. I mean for someone who 'hates' me it certainly did not seem that way a minute ago."

"I thought I told you last night, I do not hate you anymore. To be honest, I do not think I ever really did. I was just hurt and ashamed." She released a long sigh and then raised her head to meet the gaze of her husband once more, "Because I'm still attracted to you."

The stunning reality was without a doubt the last confession he would have anticipated hearing drop from her lips, but it felt good. His masculine ego was stroked, and something else, something deeper began to knot in the pit of his stomach as if he was a dying man being visited by an angel to impart to him the consoling news that he was to pass onto an eternity of bliss. "Why did you not say anything sooner?"

It suddenly irritated him to no end that while he had been sleeping for countless nights under lonely sheets, his wife was lying next door to him in the same restless slumber. How they could have eased each other's suffering! "I was still angry with you. And to be honest, we had been slowly reaching a state of peace between us. I did not want to ruin that by beginning a physical relationship." She paused, her lips turning up in a curious smirk, "What was your excuse?"

His first instinct was to deny any attraction to her. Then he realized that while though it might humor his pride, it would do nothing for his grossly neglected libido. And after years of abstinence, it was not a long battle to determine which would win out. "I had made a vow to you not to prompt any unwanted advances. You never offered me any signs of interest, so I kept to my promise."

Her lips trembled, the admission not all shocking to her, yet still holding some amount of pain in its authenticity. "You mean you kept your vow to atone for your past." It was not a question; merely what she believed to be an appropriate conclusion to his statement, "Out of guilt."

Vegeta's brows lowered noticeably, the change in subject clearly having caught him off guard. "I told you before, I cannot say I regret the night we shared, my only regret was the hurt I—"

"—that you caused me, I recall what you stated," her expression sunk once more. "But that is not enough," she whispered after a long pause. "I am not like you, Vegeta. Physical passion is just not enough for me. I want, no, I _need_ to feel something much deeper than that." Their eyes locked, and for the first time in a long time, Vegeta finally understood what she would inevitably insist upon next. "I told you six years ago I was not going to settle for anything short of love." She raised her head, her expression one of determination, "I haven't changed my mind."

So it was settled. She would marry his brother. Vegeta was not surprised, upset or angered as he left her chambers. Plainly, he was not much of anything. He felt little as he walked the short distance to the next room. If anything, he should have felt better, because he was now guaranteed an imminent end to a marriage he never wanted.

But the sentiment was spoiled because he also had to come to grips with the fact that any fantasy he had involving the most intoxicating woman of his acquaintance would never come to fruition. And not because she was in love with another or because she had not forgive him, but because he could not offer her the one thing she needed most, love.

An optimistic emotion, but one he would never be capable of. Passion, yes. Possession, yes. Caring, perhaps for her. But love? Kakarrot was right for her. He could give her what she needed. Selfish as Vegeta was, he would not keep his wife tied to him, even though the thought was damn tempting.

Arriving in his chambers, Vegeta slammed and locked his door. Collapsed atop of his bed, his mind and body were plagued by images of what he almost had tonight. "For fuck's sake, woman, will you ever leave me in peace?" he wondered aloud as he slid his hands down to release the tension he could no longer bear. Closing his eyes, Vegeta recreated the flushed vision of his wife. "I wonder if you are doing the same, my queen." Throwing his head back in arrogant certainty, he began to extinguish the fire in his body as he imagined her next door to him doing the same.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chapter in a few…


End file.
